rsity  of  California 
ithern  Regional 
brary  Facility 


rade  »  vice  wht 
tl0n 


Japanese  man'  yp'CaI  e*Pression 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIEGO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


Mrs.    Edwin  W.   Meise 

donor 


KIMONO 


KIMONO 

by 
JOHN  PARIS 


BONI    AND   LIVERIGHT 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


KIMONO 

COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 

BONI    &    LlVERIGHT,    INC. 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO  MY  WIFE 
WITH  LOVE  AND  GRATITUDE 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I  AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE u 

II  HONEYMOON 27 

III  EASTWARDS 39 

IV  NAGASAKI 51 

V  CHONKINA 61 

VI  ACROSS  JAPAN 69 

VII  THE  EMBASSY 83 

VIII  THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL 93 

IX  ITO  SAN 108 

X  THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN 117 

XI  A  GEISHA  DINNER 129 

XII  FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS 143 

XIII  THE  FAMILY  ALTAR 158 

XIV  THE  DWARF  TREES 175 

XV  EURASIA 184 

XVI  THE  GREAT  BUDDHA 194 

XVII  THE  RAINY  SEASON 208 

XVIII  AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS 216 

XIX  YAE  SMITH 229 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XX  THE  KIMONO 238 

XXI  SAYONARA  (GOOD-BYE) 248 

XXII  FUJINAMI  ASAKO 259 

XXIII  THE  REAL  SHINTO x  269 

XXIV  THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL 279 

XXV  JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  289 

XXVI  ALONE  IN  TOKYO 300 

XXVII  LADY  BRANDAN. .  3 '4 


Utsutsu  wo  mo  Since  I  am  convinced 

Utsutsu  to  sara  ni  That   Reality   is   in  no   way 

Omowaneba,  Real, 

Yume  wo  mo  yutnt  to  How  am  I  to  admit 

Nani  ka  omowamu?  That  dreams  are  dreams? 


Thf  verses  and  translation  above  are  taken  from  A.  Waley's 
"JAPANESE  POETKY  :  THE  UTA"  (Clarendon  Press),  as  are 
many  of  the  classical  poems  placed  at  the  head  of  the  chapters. 


CHAPTER  I 

AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE 

Shibukaro  ka  Whether  the  fruit  be  bitter 

Shiranedo  kaki  no  Or    whether   it   be   sweet, 

Hatsu-chigiri.  The  first  bite  tells. 

THE  marriage  of  Captain  the  Honourable  Geoffrey 
Harrington  and  Miss  Asako  Fujinami  was  an  outstanding 
event  in  the  season  of  1913.  It  was  bizarre,  it  was  pic- 
turesque, it  was  charming,  it  was  socially  and  politic- 
ally important,  it  was  everything  that  could  appeal  to 
the  taste  of  London  society,  which,  as  the  season  ad- 
vances, is  apt  to  become  jaded  by  the  monotonous  pro- 
cess of  Hymen  in  High  Life  and  by  the  continued  de- 
mand for  costly  wedding  presents. 

Once  again  Society  paid  for  its  seat  at  St.  George's 
and  for  its  glass  of  champagne  and  crumb  of  cake  with 
gifts. of  gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones  enough  to 
smother  the  tiny  bride ;  but  for  once  in  a  way  it  paid 
with  a  good  heart,  not  merely  in  obedience  to  conven- 
tion, but  for  the  sake  of  participating  in  a  unique  and 
delightful  scene,  a  touching  ceremony,  the  plighting  of 
East  and  West. 

Would  the  Japanese  heiress  be  married  in  a  kimono 
with  flowers  and  fans  fixed  in  an  elaborate  coiffure? 
Thus  the  ladies  were  wondering  as  they  craned  their 
necks  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  fhe  bride's  procession  up  the 
aisle ;  but,  though  some  even  stood  on  hassocks  and  pew 
seats,  few  were  able  to  distinguish  for  certain.  She  was 
so  very  tiny.  At  any  rate,  her  six  tall  bridesmaids  were 

11 


12  KIMONO 

arrayed  in  Japanese  dress,  lovely  white  creations  em- 
broidered with  birds  and  foliage. 

It  is  hard  to  distinguish  anything  in  the  perennial 
twilight  of  St.  George's ;  a  twilight  symbolic  of  the  new 
lives  which  emerge  from  its  Corinthian  portico  into  that 
married  world  about  which  so  much  has  been  guessed 
and  so  little  is  known. 

One  thing,  however,  was  visible  to  all  as  the  pair 
moved  together  up  to  the  altar  rails,  and  that  was  the 
size  of  the  bridegroom  as  contrasted  with  the  smallness 
of  his  bride.  He  looked  like  a  great  rough  bear  and  she 
like  a  silver  fairy.  There  was  something  intensely  pa- 
thetic in  the  curve  of  his  broad  shoulders  as  he  bent 
over  the  little  hand  to  place  in  its  proud  position  the 
diminutive  golden  circlet  which  was  to  unite  their  two 
lives. 

As  they  left  the  church,  the  organ  was  playing  Kimi- 
ga-ya,  the  Japanese  national  hymn.  Nobody  recognized 
it,  except  the  few  Japanese  who  were  present ;  but  Lady 
Everington,  with  that  exaggeration  of  the  suitable 
which  is  so  typical  of  her,  had  insisted  on  its  choice  as  a 
voluntary.  Those  who  had  heard  the  tune  before  and 
half  remembered  it  decided  that  it  must  come  from  the 
"Mikado";  and  one  stern  dowager  went  so  far  as  to  pro- 
test to  the  rector  for  permitting  such  a  tune  to  dese- 
crate the  sacred  edifice. 

Outside  the  church  stood  the  bridegroom's  brother 
officers.  Through  the  gleaming  passage  of  sword- 
blades,  smiling  and  happy,  the  strangely  assorted  couple 
entered  upon  the  way  of  wedlock,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Geoffrey  Barrington — the  shoot  of  the  Fujinami  grafted 
on  to  one  of  the  oldest  of  our  noble  families. 

"Are  her  parents  here?"  one  lady  was  asking  her 
neighbour. 

"Oh,  no ;  they  are  both  dead,  I  believe." 

"What  kind  of  people  are  they,  do  you  know?  Do 
Japs  have  an  aristocracy  and  society  and  all  that  kind 
of  thing?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I  shouldn't  think  so.  They 
don't  look  real  enough." 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  13 

"She  is  very  rich,  anyhow,"  a  third  lady  intervened, 
"I've  heard  they  are  big  landowners  in  Tokyo,  and 
cousins  of  Admiral  Togo's." 


The  opportunity  for  closer  inspection  of  this  curiosity 
was  afforded  by  the  reception  given  at  Lady  Ever- 
ington's  mansion  in  Carlton  House  Terrace.  Of  course, 
everybody  was  there.  The  great  ballroom  was  draped 
with  hangings  of  red  and  white,  the  national  colours  of 
Japan.  Favours  of  the  same  bright  hues  were  distri- 
buted among  the  guests.  Trophies  of  .Union  Jacks  and 
Rising  Suns  were  grouped  in  corners  and  festooned 
above  windows  and  doorways. 

Lady  Everington  was  bent  upon  giving  an  international 
Importance  to  her  protegee's  marriage.  Her  original 
plan  had  been  to  invite  the  whole  Japanese  community 
in  London,  and  so  to  promote  the  popularity  of  the 
Anglo-Japanese  Alliance  by  making  the  most  of  this  op- 
portunity for  social  fraternising.  But  where  was  the 
Japanese  community  in  London?  Nobody  knew.  Per- 
haps there  was  none.  There  was  the  Embassy,  of  course, 
which  arrived  smiling,  fluent,  and  almost  too  well-man- 
nered. But  Lady  Everington  had  been  unable  to  push 
very  far  her  programme  for  international  amenities. 
There  were  strange  little  yellow  men  from  the  City, 
who  had  charge  of  ships  and  banking  interests ;  there 
were  strange  little  yellow  men  from  beyond  the  West 
End,  who  studied  the  Fine  Arts,  and  lived,  it  appeared, 
on  nothing.  But  the  hostess  could  find  no  ladies  at 
all,  except  Countess  Saito  and  the  Embassy  dames. 

Monsieur  and  Madame  Murata  from  Paris,  the  bride's 
guardians,  were  also  present.  But  the  Orient  was  sub- 
merged beneath  the  flood  of  our  rank  and  fashion,  which, 
as  one  lady  put  it,  had  to  take  care  how  it  stepped  for 
fear  of  crushing  the  little  creatures. 

"Why  did  you  let  him  do  it?"  said  Mrs.  Markham  to 
her  sister. 

"It  was  a  mistake,  my  dear,"  whispered  Lady  Ever- 
ington, "I  meant  her  for  somebody  quite  different." 


14  KIMONO 

"And  you're  sorry  now?" 

"No,  I  have  no  time  to  be  sorry— ever,"  replied  that 
eternally  graceful  and  youthful  Egeria,  who  is  one  of 
London's  most  powerful  social  influences.  "It  will  be 
interesting  to  see  what  becomes  of  them." 

Lady  Everington  has  been  criticised  for  stony-hearted- 
ness,  for  opportunism,  and  for  selfish  abuse  of  her 
husband's  vast  wealth.  She  has  been  likened  to  an 
experimental  chemist,  who  mixes  discordant  elements 
together  in  order  to  watch  the  results,  chilling  them  in 
ice  or  heating  them  over  the  fire,  until  the  lives  burst 
in  fragments  or  the  colour  slowly  fades  out  of  them. 
She  has  been  called  an  artist  in  mesalliances,  a  mismatch- 
maker  of  dangerous  cunning,  a  dangler  of  picturesque 
beggar-maids  before  romantic-eyed  Cophetuas,  a  daring 
promoter  of  ambitious  American  girls  and  a  champion 
of  musical  comedy  peeresses.  Her  house  has  been  named 
the  Junior  Bachelors  Club.  The  charming  young  men 
who  seem  to  be  bound  to  its  hospitable  board  by  in- 
visible chains  are  the  material  for  her  dashing  improvisa- 
tions and  the  dramatis  persona  of  the  scores  of  little 
domestic  comedies  which  she  likes  to  keep  floating  around 
her  in  different  stages  of  development. 

Geoffrey  Barrington  had  been  the  secretary  of  this 
club,  and  a  favourite  with  the  divinity  who  presided 
over  it.  We  had  all  supposed  that  he  would  remain  a 
bachelor ;  and  the  advent  of  Asako  Fujinami  into  London 
society  gave  us  at  first  no  reason  to  change  our  opinion. 
But  she  was  certainly  attractive. 


She  ought  to  have  been  married  in  a  kimono.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it  now,  when  there  was  more  liberty 
to  inspect  her,  as  she  stood  there  shaking  hands  with 
hundreds  of  guests  and  murmuring  her  "Thank  you  very 
much"  to  the  reiterated  congratulations. 

The  white  gown  was  perfectly  cut  and  of  a  shade  to 
give  its  full  value  to  her  complexion,  a  waxen  complexion 
like  old  ivory  or  like  a  magnolia  petal,  in  which  the 
Mongolian  yellow  was  ever  so  faintly  discernible-  It 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  15 

was  a  sweet  little  face,  oval  and  smooth ;  but  it  might 
have  been  called  expressionless  if  it  had  not  been  for  a 
dimple  which  peeped  and  vanished  around  a  corner  of 
the  small  compressed  mouth,  and  for  the  great  deep 
brown  eyes,  like  the  eyes  of  deer  or  like  pools  of  forest 
water,  eyes  full  of  warmth  and  affection.  This  was  the 
feature  which  struck  most  of  us  as  we  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  watch  her  in  European  dress  with  the  glamour 
of  her  kimono  stripped  from  her.  They  were  the  eyes 
of  the  Oriental  girl,  a  creature  closer  to  the  animals  than 
we  are,  lit  by  instinct  more  often  than  by  reason,  and 
hiding  a  soul  in  its  infancy,  a  repressed,  timorous,  un- 
certain thing,  spasmodically  violent  and  habitually 
secretive  and  aloof. 

Sir  Ralph  Cairns,  the  famous  diplomat,  was  talking 
on  this  subject  to  Professor  Ironside. 

"The  Japanese  are  extraordinarily  quick,"  he  was  say- 
ing, "the  most  adaptable  people  since  the  ancient  Greeks, 
whom  they  resemble  in  some  ways.  But  they  are  more 
superficial.  The  intellect  races  on  ahead,  but  the  heart 
lingers  in  the  Dark  Ages." 

"Perhaps  intermarriage  is  the  solution  of  the  great 
racial  problem,"  suggested  the  Professor. 

"Never,"  said  the  old  administrator.  "Keep  the  breed 
pure,  be  it  white,  black,  or  yellow.  Bastard  races  can- 
not flourish.  They  are  waste  of  Nature." 

The  Professor  glanced  towards  the  bridal  pair. 

"And  these  also?"  he  asked. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Sir  Ralph,  "but  in  her  case  her  educa- 
tion has  been  so  entirely  European." 

Hereupon,  Lady  Everington  approaching,  Sir  Ralph 
turned  to  her  and  said, — 

"Dear  lady,  let  me  congratulate  you:  this  is  your 
masterpiece." 

"Sir  Ralph,"  said  the  hostess,  already  looking  to  see 
which  of  her  guests  she  would  next  pounce  upon,  "You 
know  the  East  so  well.  Give  me  one  little  piece  of  advice 
to  hand  over  to  the  children  before  they  start  on  their 
honeymoon." 

Sir  Ralph  smiled  benignly. 


16  KIMONO 

"Where  are  they  going?"  he  asked. 

"Everywhere,"  replied  Lady  Everington,  ."they  are 
going  to  travel." 

"Then  let  them  travel  all  over  the  world,"  he  answered, 
"only  not  to  Japan.  That  is  their  Bluebeard's  cupboard; 
and  into  that  they  must  not  look." 

There  was  more  discussion  of  bridegroom  and  bride 
than  is  usual  at  society  weddings,  which  are  apt  to  be- 
come mere  reunions  of  fashionable  people,  only  vaguely 
conscious  of  the  identity  of  those  in  whose  honour  they 
have  been  gathered  together. 

"Geoffrey  Barrington  is  such  a  healthy  barbarian,"  said 
a  pale  young  man  with  a  monocle ;  "if  it  had  been  a  high- 
browed  child  of  culture  like  you,  Reggie,  with  a  taste 
for  exotic  sensations,  I  should  hardly  have  been  sur- 
prised." 

"And  if  it  had  been  you,  Arthur,"  replied  Reggie 
Forsyth  of  the  Foreign  Office,  who  was  Barrington's  best 
man,  "I  should  have  known  at  once  that  it  was  the 
twenty  thousand  a  year  which  was  the  supreme  attrac- 
tion." 

There  was  a  certain  amount  of  Anglo-Indian  senti- 
ment afloat  among  the  company,  which  condemned  the 
marriage  entirely  as  an  outrage  on  decency. 

"What  was  Brandan  dreaming  of,"  snorted  General 
Haslam,  "to  allow  his  son  to  marry  a  yellow  native?" 

"Dreaming  of  the  mortgage  on  the  Brandan  property, 
I  expect,  General,"  answered  Lady  Rushworth. 

"It's  scandalous,"  foamed  the  General,  "a  fine  young 
fellow,  a  fine  officer,  too!  His  career  ruined  for  an 
undersized  geisha !" 

"But  think  of  the  millions  of  yens  or  sens  or  whatever 
they  are,  with  which  she  is  going  to  re-gild  the  Brandan 
coronet !" 

"That  wouldn't  console  me  for  a  yellow  baby  with 
slit  eyes,"  continued  the  General,  his  voice  rising  in 
debate  as  his  custom  was  at  the  Senior. 

"Hush,  General!"  said  his  interlocutor,  "we  don't  dis- 
cuss such  possibilities." 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  17 

"But  everybody  here  must  be  thinking  of  them,  except 
that  unfortunate  young  man." 

"We  never  say  what  we  are  thinking,  General;  it 
would  be  too  upsetting." 

"And  we  are  to  have  a  Japanese  Lord  Brandan,  sitting 
in  the  House  of  Lords?"  the  General  went  on. 

"Yes,  among  the  Jews,  Turks,  and  Armenians,  who 
are  there  already,"  Lady  Rushworth  answered,  "an  extra 
Oriental  will  never  be  noticed.  It  will  only  be  another 
instance  of  the  course  of  Empire  taking  its  way  East- 
ward." 


In  the  Everington  dining-room  the  wedding  presents 
were  displayed.  It  looked  more  like  the  interior  of  a 
Bond  Street  shop  where  every  kind  of  article  de  luxe, 
useful  and  useless,  was  heaped  in  plenty. 

Perhaps  the  only  gift  which  had  cost  less  than  twenty 
pounds  was  Lady  Everington's  own  offering,  a  photo- 
graph of  herself  in  a  plain  silver  frame,  her  customary 
present  when  one  of  her  protegees  was  married  under 
her  immediate  auspices. 

"My  dear,"  she  would  say,  "I  have  enriched  you  by 
several  thousands  of  pounds.  I  have  introduced  you  to 
the  right  people  for  present-giving  at  precisely  the  right 
moment  previous  to  your  wedding,  when  they  know  you 
neither  too  little  nor  too  much.  By  long  experience  I 
have  learnt  to  fix  it  to  a  day.  But  I  am  not  going  to 
compete  with  this  undistinguished  lavishness.  I  give  you 
my  picture  to  stand  in  your  drawing-room  as  an  artist 
puts  his  signature  to  a  completed  masterpiece,  so  that 
when  you  look  around  upon  the  furniture,  the  silver,  the 
cut  glass,  the  clocks,  the  engagement  tablets,  and  the 
tantalus  stands,  the  offerings  of  the  rich  whose  names 
you  have  long  ago  forgotten,  then  you  will  confess  to 
yourself  in  a  burst  of  thankfulness  to  your  fairy  god- 
mother that  all  this  would  never  have  been  yours  if  it 
had  not  been  for  her !" 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  and  apart  from  the  more 


18  KIMONO 

ostentatious  homage,  stood  on  a  small  table  a  large 
market-basket,  in  which  was  lying  a  huge  red  fish,  a 
roguish,  rollicking  mullet  with  a  roving  eye,  all  made 
out  of  a  soft  crinkly  silk.  In  the  basket  beneath  it  were 
rolls  and  rolls  of  plain  silk,  red  and  white.  This  was  an 
offering  from  the  Japanese  community  in  London,  the 
conventional  wedding  present  of  every  Japanese  home 
from  the  richest  to  the  poorest,  varying  only  in  size  and 
splendour.  On  another  small  table  lay  a  bundle  of  brown 
objects  like  prehistoric  axe  heads,  bound  round  with  red 
and  white  string,  and  vaguely  odorous  of  bloater-paste. 
These  were  dried  flesh  of  the  fish  called  katsuobushi  by 
the  Japanese,  whose  absence  also  would  have  brought 
misfortune  to  the  newly  married.  Behind  them,  on  a 
little  tray,  stood  a  miniature  landscape  representing  an 
aged  pine-tree  by  the  sea-shore  and  a  little  cottage  with 
a  couple  of  old,  old  people  standing  at  its  door,  two 
exquisite  little  dolls  dressed  in  rough,  poor  kimonos, 
brown  and  white.  The  old  man  holds  a  rake,  and  the  old 
woman  holds  a  broom.  They  have  very  kindly  faces 
and  white  silken  hair.  Any  Japanese  would  recognise 
them  at  once  as  the  Old  People  of  Takasago,  the  personi- 
fication of  the  Perfect  Marriage.  They  are  staring  with 
wonder  and  alarm  at  the  Brandan  sapphires,  a  monu- 
mental parure  designed  for  the  massive  state  of  some 
Early-Victorian  Lady  Brandan. 

Asako  Fujinami  had  spent  days  rejoicing  over  the 
arrival  of  her  presents,  little  interested  in  the  identity 
of  the  givers  but  fascinated  by  the  things  themselves- 
She  had  taken  hours  to  arrange  them  in  harmonious 
groups.  Then  a  new  gift  would  arrive  which  would  upset 
the  balance,  and  she  would  have  to  begin  all  over  again. 

Besides  this  treasury  in  the  dining-room,  there  were 
all  her  clothes,  packed  now  for  the  honeymoon,  a  whole 
wardrobe  of  fairy-like  disguises,  wonderful  gowns  of  all 
colours  and  shapes  and  materials.  These,  it  is  true,  she 
had  bought  herself.  She  had  always  been  surrounded 
by  money ;  but  it  was  only  since  she  had  lived  with  Lady 
Everington  that  she  had  begun  to  learn  something  about 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  19 

the  thousand  different  ways  of  spending  it,  and  all  the 
lovely  things  for  which  it  can  be  exchanged.  So  all  her 
new  things,  whatever  their  source,  seemed  to  her  like 
presents,  like  unexpected  enrichments.  She  had  basked 
among  her  new  acquisitions,  silent  as  was  her  wont  when 
she  was  happy,  sunning  herself  in  the  warmth  of  her 
prosperity.  Best  of  all,  she  never  need  wear  kimonos 
again  in  public.  Her  fiance  had  acceded  to  this,  her  most 
immediate  wish.  She  could  dress  now  like  the  girls 
around  her.  She  would  no  longer  be  stared  at  like  a 
curio  in  a  shop  window.  Inquisitive  fingers  would  no 
longer  clutch  at  the  long  sleeves  of, crinkled  silk,  or  try 
to  probe  the  secret  of  the  huge  butterfly  bow  on  her 
back.  She  could  step  out  fearlessly  now  like  ,  English 
women.  She  could  give  up  the  mincing  walk  and  the 
timid  manner  which  she  felt  was  somehow  inseparable 
from  her  native  dress. 

When  she  told  her  protectress  that  Geoffrey  had  con- 
sented to  its  abandonment,  Lady  Everington  had  heaved 
a  sigh. 

"Poor  Kimono !"  she  said,  "it  has  served  you  well.  But 
I  suppose  a  soldier  is  glad  to  put  his  uniform  away  when 
the  fighting  is  over.  Only,  never  forget  the  mysterious 
power  of  the  uniform  over  the  other  sex." 

Another  day  when  her  Ladyship  had  been  in  a  bad 
mood,  she  had  snapped, — 

"Put  those  things  away,  child,  and  keep  to  your  kimono. 
It  is  your  natural  plumage.  In  those  borrowed  plumes 
you  look  undistinguished  and  underfed." 


The  Japanese  Ambassador  to  the , Court  of  St.  James 
proposed  the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  Count 
Saito  was  a  small,  wise  man,  whom  long  sojourn  in 
European  countries  had  to  some  extent  de-orientalised. 
His  hair  was  grizzled,  his  face  was  seamed,  and  he  had  a 
peering  way  of  gazing  through  his  gold-rimmed  spec- 
tacles with  head  thrust  forward  like  a  man  half  blind, 
which  he  certainly  was  not. 


20  KIMONO 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  great  pleasure 
for, me  to  be  present  on  this  occasion,  for  I  think  this 
wedding  is  a  personal  compliment  to  myself  and  to  my 
work  in  this  splendid  country.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Geoffrey 
Harrington  are  the  living  symbols  of  the  Anglo-Japanese 
Alliance ;  and  I  hope  they  will  always  remember  the 
responsibility  resting  on  their  shoulders.  The  bride 
and  bridegroom  of  to-day  must  feel  that  the  relations 
of  Great  Britain  and  Japan  depend  upon  the  perfect 
harmony  of  their  married  life.  Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
let  us  drink  long  life  and  happiness  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Geoffrey  Harrington,  to  the  Union  Jack  and  to  the  Rising 
Sun!" 

The  toast,  was  drunk  and  three  cheers  were  given,  with 
an  extra  cheer  for  Mrs.  Geoffrey.  The  husband,  who  was 
no  hand  at  speechmaking,  replied — and  his  good-natured 
voice  was  quite  thick  with  emotion — that  it  was, awfully 
good  of  them  all  to  give  his  wife  and  himself  such  a 
ripping  send-off,  and  awfully  good  of  Sir  George  and 
Lady  Everington  especially,  and  awfully  good  of  Count 
Saito;  and  that  he  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  world 
and  the  luckiest,  and  that  his  wife  had  told  him  to  tell 
them  all  that  she  was  the  happiest  woman,  though  he 
really  did  not  see  why  she  should  be.  Anyhow,  he 
would  do  his  best  to  give  her  a  jolly  good  time.  He 
thanked  his  friends  for  their  good  wishes  and  for  their 
beautiful  presents.  They  had  had  jolly  good  times  to- 
gether, and,  in  return  for  all  their  kindness,  he  and  his 
wife  wanted  to  wish  them  all  a  jolly  good  time. 

So  spoke  Geoffrey  Harrington ;  and  at  that  moment 
many  .people  present  must  have  felt  a  pang  of  regret 
that  this  fine  specimen  of  England's  young  manhood 
should  marry  an  oriental.  He  was  over  six  feet  high. 
His  broad  shoulders  seemed  to  stoop  a  little  with  the 
lazy  strength  of  a  good-tempered  carnivore,  of  Una's 
lion,  and  his  face,  which  was  almost  round,  was  set  ,off 
by  a  mane  of  the  real  lion  colour.  He  wore  his  moustache 
rather  longer  than  was  the  fashion.  It  was  a  face  which 
seemed  ready  to  laugh  at  any  moment — or  else  to  yawn. 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  21 

For  there  was  about  the  man's  character  and  appearance 
something  indolent  and  half-awakened  and  much  of  the 
schoolboy.  Yet  he  was  over  thirty.  But  there  is  always 
a  tendency  for  Army  life  to  be  merely  a  continuation  of 
public-school  existence.  Eton  merges  into  Sandhurst,  and 
Sandhurst  merges  into  the  regiment.  One's  companions 
are  all  the  time  men  of  the  same  class  and  of  the  same 
ideas.  The  discipline  is  the  same,  the  conventionality 
and  the  presiding  fetish  of  Good  and  Bad  Form.  So 
many  .generals  are  perennial  school  boys.  They  lose 
their  freshness,  that  is  all. 

But  Geoffrey  Barrington  had  not  lost  his  freshness. 
This  was  his  great  charm,  for  he  certainly  was  not  quick 
or  witty-  Lady  Everington  said  that  she  kept  him  as  a 
disinfectant  to  purify  the  atmosphere. 

"This  house,"  she  declared,  "sometimes  gets  over- 
scented  with  tuberoses.  Then  I  open  the  window  and 
let  Geoffrey  Barrington  in !" 

He  was  the  only  son  of  Lord  Brandan  and  heir  to 
that  ancient  but  impoverished  title.  He  had  been  brought 
up  to  the  idea  that  he  must  marry  a  rich  wife.  He 
neither  jibbed  foolishly  at  the  proposal,  nor  did  he  sur- 
render lightly  to  any  of  the  willing  heiresses  who  threw 
themselves  at  his  head.  He  accepted  his  destiny  with 
the  fatalism  which  every  soldier  must  carry  in  his  knap- 
sack, and  took  up  his  post  as  Mars  in  attendance  in  Lady 
Everington's  drawing-room,  recognising  that  there  lay 
the  strategic  point  for  achieving  his  purpose.  He  was 
not  without  hope,  too,  that  besides  obtaining  the  money- 
bags he  might  be  so  fortunate  as  to  fall  in  love  with  the 
possessor  of  them. 

Asako  Fujinami,  whom  he  had  first  met  at  dinner, at 
Lady  Everington's,  had  crossed  his  mind  just  like  an 
exquisite  bar  of  melody.  He  made  no  comments  at  the 
time,  but  he  could  not  forget  her.  The  haunting  tune 
came  back  to  him  again  and  again.  By, the  fime  that 
she  had  floated  in  his  arms  through  three  or  four  dances, 
the  spell  had  worked.  La  belle  dame  sans  tnerci,  the 
enchantress  who  lurks  in  every  woman,  had  him  in  thrall. 


22  KIMONO 

Her  simplest  observations  seemed  to  him  to  be  pearls 
of  .wisdom,  her  every  movement  a  triumph  of  grace. 

"Reggie,"  he  said  to  his  friend  Forsyth,  "what  do  you 
think  of  that  little  Japanese  girl?" 

Reggie,  who  was  a  diplomat  by  profession  and  a  mu- 
sician by  the  grace  of  God,  and  whose  intuition  was 
almost  feminine  especially  where  Geoffrey  was  con- 
cerned, answered, —  , 

"Why,  Geoffrey,  are  you  thinking  of  marrying  her?" 

"By  Jove !"  exclaimed  his  friend,  starting  at  the 
thought  as  at  a  discovery ;  "but  I,  don't  think  she'd  have 
me.  I'm  not  her  sort." 

"You  never  can  tell,"  suggested  Reggie  mischievously ; 
"She  is  quite  unspoilt,  and  she  has  twenty  thousand  a 
year.  She  is  unique.  You  could  not  possibly  get  her 
confused  with  somebody  else's  wife,  as  so  many  people 
seem  to  do  when  they  get  married-  Why  not  try?" 

Reggie  thought  that  such  a  mating  was  impossible,  but 
it  amused  him  to  play  with  the  idea.  As  for  Lady 
Everington,  who  knew  every  one  so  well,  and  who 
thought  that  she  knew  them  perfectly,  she  never  guessed. 

"I  think,  Geoffrey,  that  you  like  to  be  seen  with 
Asako,"  she  said,  "just  to  point  the  contrast." 

Her  confession  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Markham,  was  the 
truth.  She  had  made  a  mistake ;  she  had  destined  Asako 
for  somebody  quite  different.  It  was  the  girl  herself  who 
had  been  the  first  to  enlighten  her.  She  came  to  her 
hostess's  boudoir  one  evening  before  the  labours  ,of  the 
night  began. 

"Lady  Georgie,"  she  had  said — Lady  Everington  is 
Lady  Georgie  to  all  who  know  her  even  a  little.  "77  faut 
que  je  vous  dise  quelque  chose."  The  girl's  face  glanced 
downward  and  sideways,  as  her  habit  was  when  embar- 
rassed. 

When  Asako  spoke  in  French  it  meant  that  something 
grave  was  afoot.  She  was  afraid  that  her  unsteady 
English  might  muddle  what  she  intended  to  say.  Lady 
Everington  knew  that  it  must  be  another  proposal ;  she 
had  already  dealt  with  three. 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  23 

"Eh  blen,  cctte  fois  qui  cst-il?"  she  asked. 

"Le  capitaine  Geoffroi,"  answered  Asako-  Then  her 
friend  knew  that  it  was  serious. 

"What  did  you  say  to  him?"  she  demanded. 

"I  tell  him  he  must  ask  you." 

"But  why  drag  me  into  it  ?  It's  your  own  affair." 

"In  France  and  in  Japan,"  said  Asako,  "a  girl  do  not 
say  Yes  and  No  herself.  It  is  her  father  and  her  mother 
who  decide.  I  have  no  father  or  mother ;  so  I  think  he 
must  ask  you." 

"And  what,  do  you  want  me  to  say  ?" 

For  answer  Asako  gently  squeezed  the  elder  woman's 
hand,  but  Lady  Georgie  was  in  no  mood  to  return  the 
pressure.  The  girl  at  once  felt  the  absence  of  the  re- 
sponse, and  said, — 

"What,  you  do  not  like  the  capitaine  Geoff  roil" 

But  her  fairy  godmother  answered  bitterly, — 

"On  the  contrary,  I  have  a  considerable  affection  for 
Geoffrey." 

"Then,"  cried  Asako,  starting  up,  "you  think  I  am  not 
good  enough  for  him.  It's  because  I'm — not  English." 

She  began  to  cry.  In  spite  of  her  superficial  hardness, 
Lady  Everington  has  a  very  tender  heart.  She  took  the 
girl  in  her  arms. 

"Dearest  child,"  she  said,  raising  the  little,  moist  face 
to  hers,  "don't  cry.  Jn  England  we  answer  this  great 
question  ourselves.  Our  fathers  and  mothers  and  fairy 
godmothers  have  to  concur.  If  Geoffrey  Barrington 
has  asked  you  to  marry  him,  it  is  because  he  loves  you- 
He  does  not  scatter  proposals  like  calling-cards,  as  some 
young  men  do.  In  fact,  I  have  never  heard  of  him  pro- 
posing to  anyone  before.  He  does  not  want  you  to 
say  'No,'  of  course.  But  "are  you  quite  ready  to  say 
'Yes'?  Very  well,  wait  a  fortnight,  and  don't  see  more 
of  him  than  you  can  help  in  the  meantime.  Now,  .let 
them  send  for  my  masseuse.  There  is  nothing  so  exhaust- 
ing to  the  aged  as  the  emotions  of  young  people." 

That  evening,  when  Lady  Everington  met  Geoffrey 
at  the  theatre,  she  took  him  severely  to  task  for  treach- 


24  KIMONO 

ery,  secrecy  and  decadence.  He. was  very  humble  and 
admitted  all  his  faults  except  the  last,  pleading  as  his 
excuse  that  he  could  not  get  Asako  out  of  his  head. , 

"Yes,  that  is  a  symptom,"  said  her  Ladyship;  "you  are 
clearly  stricken.  So  I  fear  I  am  too  late  to  effect  a 
rescue.  All  I  can  do  is  to  congratulate  you  both.  But, 
remember,  a  wife  is  not  nearly  so  fugitive  as  a  melody, 
unless  she  is  the  wrong  kind  of  wife." 

It  was  a  wrench  for  the  little  lady  to  part  with  the 
oldest  of  her  friendships,  and  to  give  up  her  Geoffrey 
to  the  care  of  this  decorative  stranger  whose  qualities 
were  unknown  .and  undeveloped.  But  she  knew  what 
the  answer  would  be  at  the  end  of  the  fortnight.  So 
she  steeled  her  nerves  to  laugh  at  her  friends'  com- 
miserations and  to  make .  the  marriage  of  her  god- 
children one  of  the  season's  successes.  It  would  certainly 
be  an  interesting  addition  to  her  museum  of  domestic 
dramas. 

There  was  one  person  whom  Lady  Everington  was 
determined  to  pump  for  information  on  that  wedding- 
day,  and  had  drawn  into  the  .net  of  her  invitations  for 
this  very  purpose.  It  was  Count  Saito,  the  Japanese 
Ambassador. 

She  cornered  him  as  he  was  admiring  the  presents, 
and  whisked  him  away  to  the  silence  and  twilight  of  her 
husband's  study. 

"I  am  so. glad  you  were  able  to  come,  Count  Saito," 
she  began.  "I  suppose  you  know  the  Fujinamis,  Asako's 
relatives  in  Tokyo?" 

"No,  I  do  not  know  them,"  His  Excellency  answered, 
but  his  tone  conveyed  to  the  lady's  instinct  that  he  per- 
sonally would  not  wish  to  know  them. 

"But  you  know  the  name,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  the  name ;  there  are  many  families 
called  Fujinami  in  Japan." 

"Are  they  very  rich?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  there  are  some  who  are  very  rich," 
said  the  little  diplomat,  who  clearly  was  ill  at  ease. 


AN  ANGLO-JAPANESE  MARRIAGE  25 

"Where  does  their  money  come  from?"  his  inquisitor 
went  on  remorselessly.  "You  are  keeping  something 
from  me,  Count  Saito.  Please  be  frank,  if  there  is  any 
mystery." 

"Oh  no,  Lady  Everington,  there  is  no  mystery,  I  am 
sure.  There  is  one  family  of  Fujinami  who. have  many 
houses  and  lands  in  Tokyo  and  other  towns.  I  will  be 
quite  open  with  you.  They  are  rather  .what  you  in 
England  call  nouvcaux  riches." 

"Really !"  Her  Ladyship  was  taken  aback  for  a  moment. 
"But  you  would  never  notice  it  with  Asako,  would  you? 
I  mean,  she  does  not  drop  her  Japanese  aitches,  and 
that  sort  of  thing,  does  she?" 

"Oh  no,"  Count  Saito  reassured  her,  "I  do  not  think 
Mademoiselle  Asako  talks  Japanese  language,  so  she 
cannot  drop  her  aitches." 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  his  hostess  continued,  "I 
thought  that  if  a  Japanese  had  money,  he  must  be  a 
dainiyo,  or  something." 

The  Ambassador  smiled. 

"English  people,"  he  said,  "do  not  know  very  well  the 
true  condition  of  Japan.  Of  course  we  have  our  rich 
new  families  and  our  poor  old  families  just  as  you  have 
in  England.  In  some  aspects  our  society  is  just  the 
same  as  yours.  In  others,  it  is  so  different,  that  you 
would  lose  your  way  at  once  in  a  maze  of  ideas  which 
would  seem  to  you  quite  upside  down." 

Lady  Everington  interrupted  his  reflections  in  a  des- 
perate attempt  to  get  something  out  of  him  by  a  surprise 
attack. 

"How  interesting,"  she  said,  "it  will  be  for  Geoffrey 
Barrington  and  his  wife  to  visit  Japan  and  find  out  all 
about  it." 

The  Ambassador's  manner  changed. 

"No,  I  do  not  think,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  think  that  is  a 
good  thing  at  all.  They  must  not  do  that.  You  must 
not  let  them." 

"But  why  not?" 

"I  say  to  all  Japanese  men  and  women  who  live  a  long 


26  KIMONO 

time  in  foreign  countries  or  who  marry  foreign  people, 
'Do  not  go  back  to  Japan.'  Japan  is  like  a  little  pot 
and  the  foreign  world  is  like  a  big  garden.  If  you  plant 
a  tree  from  the  pot  into  the  garden  and  let  it  grow,  you 
cannot  put  it  back  into  the  pot  again." 

"But,  in  this  case,  that  is  not  the  only  reason,"  ob- 
jected Lady  Everington. 

"No,  there  are  many  other  reasons  too,"  the  Ambas- 
sador admitted ;  and  he  rose  from  his  sofa,  indicating 
that  the  interview  was  at  an  end. 


The  bridal  pair  left  in  a  motor-car  for  Folkestone  under 
a  hailstorm  of  rice,  and  with  the  propitious  white  slipper 
dangling  from  the  number-plate  behind. 

When  all  her  guests  were  gone,  Lady  Everington  fled 
to  her  boudoir  and  collapsed  in  a  little  heap  of  sobbing 
finery  on  the  broad  divan.  She  was  overtired,  no  doubt ; 
but  the  sense  of  her  mistake  lay  heavy  upon  her,  and 
the  feeling  that  she  had  sacrificed  to  it  her  best  friend, 
the  most  humanly  valuable  of  all  the  people  who  resorted 
to  her  house.  An  evil  cloud  of  mystery  hung  over  the 
young  marriage,  one  of  those  sinister  unfamiliar  forces 
which  travellers  bring  home  from  the  East,  the  curse 
of  a  god  or  a  secret  poison  or  a  hideous  disease. 

It  would  be  so  natural  for  those  two  to  want  to  visit 
Japan  and  to  know  their  second  home-  Yet  both  Sir 
Ralph  Cairns  and  Count  Saito.  the  only  two  men  that  day 
who  knew  anything  about  the  real  conditions,  had  in- 
sisted that  such  a  visit  would  be  fatal.  And  who  were 
these  Fuiinamis  whom  Count  Saito  knew,  but  did  not 
know?  Why  had  she,  who  was  so  socially  careful,  taken 
so  much  for  granted  just  because  Asako  was  a  Japanese? 


CHAPTER  II 

HONEYMOON 

Asa  ne  kami  (My)   morning  sleep  hair 

Ware  wa  kecuraji;  I  will  not  comb; 

Utsukushiki  For  it  has  been  in  contact 

A'l'wi  ga  ta-makura  with 

Fureteshi  mono  wo.  The  pillowing  hand  of 

My  beautiful  Lord  1 

THE  Harringtons  left  England  for  a  prolonged  honey- 
moon, for  Geoffrey  was  now  free  to  realise  his  favourite 
project  of  travelling  abroad.  So  they  became  numbered 
among  that  shoal  of  English  people  out  of  England, 
who  move  restless  leisure  between  Paris  and  the  Nile. 

Geoffrey  had  resigned  his  commission  in  the  army. 
His  friends  thought  that  this  was  a  mistake.  For  the 
loss  of  a  man's  career,  even  when  it  is  uncongenial  to 
him,  is  a  serious  amputation,  and  entails  a  lesion  of 
spiritual  blood.  He  had  refused  his  father's  suggestion 
of  settling  down  in  a  house  on  the  Brandan  estate,  for 
Lord  Brandan  was  an  unpleasing  old  gentleman,  a  fre- 
quenter of  country  bars  and  country  barmaids.  His  son 
wished  to  keep  his  young  bride  as  far  away  as  possible 
from  a  spectacle  of  which  he  was  heartily  ashamed. 

First  of  all  they  went  to  Paris,  which  Asako  adored ; 
for  was  it  not  her  home?  But  this  time  she  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  Paris  unknown  to  her,  save  by  rumour, 
in  the  convent  days  or  within  the  discreet  precincts  of 
Monsieur  Murata's  villa.  She  was  enchanted  by  the 
theatres,  the  shops,  the  restaurants,  the  music,  and  the 
life  which  danced  around  her.  She  wanted  to  rent  an 
appartemcnt,  and  to  live  there  for  the  rest  of  her  exis- 
tence. 

"But  the  season  is  almost  over,"  said  her  husband ; 
"everybody  will  be  leaving." 

Unaccustomed  as  yet  to  his  freedom,  he  still  felt  con- 
strained to  do  the  same  as  Everybody. 

27 


28  KIMONO 

Before  leaving  Paris,  they  paid  a  visit  to  the  Auteuil 
villa,  which  had  been  Asako's  home  for  so  many  years. 

Murata  was  the  manager  of  a  big  Japanese  firm  in 
Paris.  He  had  spent  almost  all  his  life  abroad  and  the 
last  twenty  years  of  it  in  the  French  capital,  so  that  even 
in  appearance,  except  for  his  short  stature  and  his  tilted 
eyes,  he  had  come  to  look  like  a  Frenchman  with  his 
beard  d  I'imperiale,  and  his  quick  birdlike  gestures.  His 
wife  was  a  Japanese,  but  she  too  had  lost  almost  all 
traces  of  her  native  mannerisms. 

Asako  Fujinami  had  been  brought  to  Paris  by  her 
father,  who  had  died  there  while  still  a  young  man-  He 
had  entrusted  his  only  child  to  the  care  of  the  Muratas 
with  instructions  that  she  should  be  educated  in  European 
ways  and  ideas,  that  she  should  hold  no  communication 
with  her  relatives  in  Japan,  and  that  eventually  a  white 
husband  should  be  provided  for  her.  He  had  left  his 
whole  fortune  in  trust  for  her,  and  the  interest  was 
forwarded  regularly  to  M.  Murata  by  a  Tokyo  lawyer, 
to  be  used  for  her  benefit  as  her  guardian  might  deem 
best.  This  money  was  to  be  the  only  tie  between  Asako 
and  her  native  land. 

To  cut  off  a  child  from  its  family,  of  which  by  virtue 
of  vested  interests  it  must  still  be  an  important  member, 
was  a  proceeding  so  revolutionary  to  all  respectable 
Japanese  ideas  that  even  the  enlightened  Murata  de- 
murred. In  Japan  the  individual  counts  for  so  little,  the 
family  for  so  much.  But  Fujinami  had  insisted,  and 
disobedience  to  a  man's  dying  wish  brings  the  curse 
of  a  "rough  ghost"  upon  the  recalcitrant,  and  all  kinds 
of  evil  consequences. 

So  the  Muratas  took  Asako  and  cherished  her  as  much 
as  their  hearts,  withered  by  exile  and  by  unnatural  living, 
were  capable  of  cherishing  anything.  She  became  a 
daughter  of  the  well-to-do  French  bourgeoisie,  strictly 
but  affectionately  disciplined  with  the  proper  restraints 
on  the  natural  growth  of  her  brain  and  individuality. 

Geoffrey  Barrington  was  not  very  favourably  im- 
pressed by  the  Murata  household.  He  wondered  how 


HONEYMOON  29 

so  bright  a  little  flower  as  Asako  could  have  been  reared 
in  such  gloomy  surroundings.  The  spirits  dominant  in 
the  villa  were  respectable  economy  and  slavish  imitation 
of  the  tastes  and  habits  of  Parisian  friends.  The  living- 
rooms  were  as  impersonal  as  the  rooms  of  a  boarding- 
house.  Neutral  tints  abounded,  ugly  browns  and  night- 
mare vegetable  patterns  on  carpets,  furniture  and  wall- 
papers. There  was  a  marked  tendency  towards  covers, 
covers  for  the  chairs  and  sofas,  tablecloths  and  covers 
for  the  tablecloths,  covers  for  cushion-covers,  anti- 
macassars, lamp-stands,  vase-stands  and  every  kind  ot 
decorative  duster.  Everywhere  the  thick  smell  of  con- 
cealed grime  told  of  insufficient  servants  and  ineffective 
sweeping.  There  was  not  one  ornament  or  picture  which 
recalled  Japan,  or  gave  a  clue  to  the  personal  tastes  of 
the  owners. 

Geoffrey  had  expected  to  be  the  nervous  witness  of  an 
affecting  scene  between  his  wife  and  her  adopted 
parents-  But  no,  the  greetings  were  polite  and  formal. 
Asako's  frock  and  jewellery  were  admired,  but  without 
that  note  of  angry  envy  which  often  brightens  the  dullest 
talk  between  ladies  in  England.  Then,  they  sat  down 
to  an  atrocious  lunch  eaten  in  complete  silence. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  Murata  drew  Geoffrey  aside 
into  his  shingly  garden. 

"I  think  that  you  will  be  content  with  our  Asa  San," 
he  said;  "the  character  is  still  plastic.  In  England  it 
is  different ;  but  in  France  and  in  Japan  we  say  it  is  the 
husband  who  must  make  the  character  of  his  wife.  She 
is  the  plain  white  paper ;  let  him  take  his  brush  and  write 
on  it  what  he  will.  Asa  San  is  a  very  sweet  girl.  She  is 
very  easy  to  manage.  She  has  a  beautiful  disposition. 
She  does  not  tell  lies  without  reason.  She  does  not  wish 
to  make  strange  friends.  I  do  not  think  you  will  have 
trouble  with  her." 

"He  talks  about  her  rather  as  if  she  were  a  horse," 
thought  Geoffrey.  Murata  went  on, — 

"The  Japanese  woman  is  the  ivy  which  clings  to  the 
tree.  She  does  not  wish  to  disobey." 


30  KIMONO 

"You  think  Asako  is  still  very  Japanese,  then?"  asked 
Geoffrey. 

"Not  her  manners,  or  her  looks,  or  even  her  thoughts," 
replied  Murata,  "but  nothing  can  change  the  heart." 

"Then  do  you  think  she  is  homesick  sometimes  for 
Japan?"  said  her  husband. 

"Oh  no,"  smiled  Murata.  The  little  wizened  man  was 
full  of  smiles.  "She  left  Japan  when  she  was  not  two 
years  old.  She  remembers  nothing  at  all." 

"I  think  one  day  we  shall  go  to  Japan,"  said  Geoffrey, 
"when  we  get  tired  of  Europe,  you  know.  It  is  a  wonder- 
ful country,  I  am  told ;  and  it  does  not  seem  right  that 
Asako  should  know  nothing  about  it.  Besides,  I  should 
like  to  look  into  her  affairs  and  find  out  about  her  in- 
vestments." 

Murata  was  staring  at  his  yellow  boots  with  an  em- 
barrassed air-  It  suddenly  struck  the  Englishman  that 
he,  Geoffrey  Barrington,  was  related  to  people  who 
looked  like  that,  and  who  now  had  the  right  to  call  him 
cousin.  He  shivered. 

"You  can  trust  her  lawyers,"  said  the  Japanese,  "Mr. 
Ito  is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  You  may  be  quite  certain 
that  Asako's  money  is  safe." 

"Oh  yes,  of  course,"  assented  Geoffrey,  "but  what 
exactly  are  her  investments?  I  think  I  ought  to  know." 

Murata  began  to  laugh  nervously,  as  all  Japanese  do 
when  embarrassed. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  exclaimed,  "but  I  do  not  know  myself. 
The  money  has  been  paid  regularly  for  nearly  twenty 
years ;  and  I  know  the  Fujinami  are  very  rich.  Indeed, 
Captain  Barrington,  I  do  not  think  Asako  would  like 
Japan.  It  was  her  father's  last  wish  that  she  should 
never  return  there." 

"But  why?"  asked  Geoffrey.  He  felt  that  Murata 
was  keeping  something  from  him.  The  little  man 
answered, — 

"He  thought  that  for  a  woman  the  life  is  more  happy 
in  Europe ;  he  wished  Asako  to  forget  altogether  that 
she  was  Japanese." 


HONEYMOON  31 

"Yes,  but  now  she  is  married  and  her  future  is  fixed. 
She  is  not  going  back  permanently  to  Japan,  but  just 
to  see  the  country.  I  think  we  would  both  of  us  like  to. 
People  say  it  is  a  magnificent  country." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Murata,  "to  speak  so  of 
my  country.  But  the  foreign  people  who  marry  Japanese 
are  happy  if  they  stay  in  their  own  country,  and  Japanese 
who  marry  foreigners  are  happy  if  they  go  away  from 
Japan.  But  if  they  stay  in  Japan  they  are  not  happy. 
The  national  atmosphere  in  Japan  is  too  strong  for  those 
people  who  are  not  Japanese  or  are  only  half  Japanese. 
They  fade.  Besides  life  in  Japan  is  very  poor  and  rough. 
I  do  not  like  it  myself." 

Somehow  Geoffrey  could  not  accept  these  as  being 
the  real  reasons.  He  had  never  had  a  long  talk  with  a 
Japanese  man  before ;  but  he  felt  that  if  they  were  all 
like  that,  so  formal,  so  unnatural,  so  secretive,  then  he 
had  better  keep  out  of  the  range  of  Asako's  relatives. 

He  wondered  what  his  wife  really  thought  of  the 
Muratas,  and  during  the  return  to  their  hotel,  he  asked, — 

"Well,  little  girl,  do  you  want  to  go  back  again  and 
live  at  Auteuil?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"But  it  is  nice  to  think  you  have  always  got  an  extra 
home  in  Paris,  isn't  it  ?"  he  went  on,  fishing  for  an  avowal 
that  home  was  in  his  arms  only,  a  kind  of  conversation 
which  was  the  wine  of  life  to  him  at  that  period. 

"No,"  she  answered  with  a  little  shudder,  "I  don't  call 
that  home." 

Geoffrey's  conventionality  was  a  little  bit  shocked  at 
this  lack  of  affection ;  he  was  also  disappointed  at  not 
getting  exactly  the  expected  answer. 

"Why,  what  was  wrong  with  it?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  it  was  not  pretty  or  comfortable,"  she  said,  "they 
were  so  afraid  to  spend  money.  When  I  wash  my  hands, 
they  say,  'Do  not  use  too  much  soap ;  it  is  waste.' " 

Asako  was  like  a  little  prisoner  released  into  the  sun- 


32  KIMONO 

light.  She  dreaded  the  idea  of  being  thrust  back  into 
darkness  again. 

In  this  new  life  of  hers  anything  would  have  made  her 
happy,  that  is  to  say,  anything  new,  anything  given  to 
her,  anything  good  to  eat  or  drink,  anything  soft  and 
shimmery  to  wear,  anything — so  long  as  her  big  husband 
was  with  her.  He  was  the  most  fascinating  of  all  her 
novelties.  He  was  much  nicer  than  Lady  Everington; 
for  he  was  not  always  saying,  "Don't,"  or  making  clever 
remarks,  which  she  could  not  understand.  He  gave  her 
absolutely  her  own  way,  and  everything  that  she  admired. 
He  reminded  her  of  an  old  Newfoundland  dog  who  had 
been  her  slave  when  she  was  a  little  girl. 

He  used  to  play  with  her  as  he  would  have  played 
with  a  child,  watching  her  as  she  tried  on  her  finery, 
hiding  things  for  her  to  find,  holding  them  over  her 
head  and  making  her  jump  for  them  like  a  puppy,  arrang- 
ing her  ornaments  for  her  in  those  continual  private 
exhibitions  which  took  up  so  much  of  her  time.  Then 
she  would  ring  the  bell  and  summon  all  the  chambermaids 
within  call  to  come  and  admire ;  and  Geoffrey  would 
stand  among  all  these  womenfolk,  listening  to  the  chorus 
of  "Mon  Dieu!"  and  "Ah,  que  c'est  beau!"  and  "Ah, 
qu'ellc  est  gentille!"  like  some  Hector  who  had  strayed 
into  the  gynceceum  of  Priam's  palace.  He  felt  a  little 
foolish,  perhaps,  but  very  happy,  happy  in  his  wife's 
naive  happiness  and  affection,  which  did  not  require  any 
mental  effort  to  understand,  nor  that  panting  pursuit 
on  which  he  had  embarked  more  than  once  in  order  to 
keep  up  with  the  witty  flirtatiousness  of  some  of  the 
beauties  of  Lady  Everington's  salon. 

Happiness  shone  out  of  Asako  like  light.  But  would 
she  always  be  happy?  There  were  the  possibilities  of  the 
future  to  be  reckoned  with,  sickness,  childbirth,  and  the 
rearing  of  children,  the  hidden  development  of  the  char- 
acter which  so  often  grows  away  from  what  it  once 
cherished,  the  baleful  currents  of  outside  influences,  the 
attraction  and  repulsion  of  so-called  friends  and  enemies 
all  of  which  complicate  the  primitive  simplicity  of  mar- 


HONEYMOON  33 

ried  life  and  forfeit  the  honeymoon  Eden.  Adam  and 
Eve  in  the  garden  of  the  Creation  can  hear  the  voice  of 
God  whispering  in  the  evening  breeze;  they  can  live  with- 
out jars  and  ambitions,  without  suspicion  and  without 
reproaches.  They  have  no  parents,  no  parents-in-law, 
no  brothers,  sisters,  aunts,  or  guardians,  no  friends  to 
lay  the  train  of  scandal  or  to  be  continually  pulling  them 
from  each  other's  arms.  But  the  first  influence  which 
crosses  the  walls  of  their  paradise,  the  first  being  to 
whom  they  speak,  which  possesses  the  semblance  of  a 
human  voice,  is  most  certainly  Satan  and  that  Old  Serpent, 
who  was  a  liar  and  a  slanderer  from  the  beginning,  and 
whose  counsels  will  lead  inevitably  to  the  withdrawal  of 
God's  presence  and  to  the  doom  of  a  life  of  pain  and 
labor. 

There  was  one  cloud  in  the  heaven  of  their  happiness. 
Geoffrey  was  inclined  to  tease  Asako  about  her  native 
country.  His  ideas  about  Japan  were  gleaned  chiefly 
from  musical  comedies.  He  would  call  his  wife  Yum 
Yum  and  Pitti  Sing.  He  would  fix  the  end  of  one  of  her 
black  veils  under  his  hat,  and  would  ask  her  whether 
she  liked  him  better  with  a  pigtail. 

"Captain  Geoffrey,"  she  would  complain,  "it  is  the 
Chinese  who  wear  the  pigtail ;  they  are  a  very  savage 
people." 

Then  he  would  call  her  his  little  geisha,  and  this  she 
resented ;  for  she  knew  from  the  Muratas  that  geisha 
were  bad  women  who  took  husbands  away  from  their 
wives,  and  that  was  no  joking  matter. 

"What  nonsense !"  exclaimed  Geoffrey,  taken  aback  by 
this  sudden  reproof:  "they  are  dear  little  things  like 
you,  darling,  and  they  bring  you  tea  and  wave  fans  be- 
hind your  head,  and  I  would  like  to  have  twenty  of  them 
— to  wait  upon  you !" 

He  would  tease  her  about  a  supposed  fondness  for 
rice,  for  chopsticks,  for  paper  umbrellas  and  jiujitsu. 
She  liked  him  to  tease  her,  just  as  a  child  likes  to  be 
teased,  while  all  the  time  on  the  verge  of  tears.  With 
Asako,  tears  and  laughter  were  never  far  apart. 


34  KIMONO 

"Why  do  you  tease  me  because  I  am  Japanese?"  she 
would  sob;  "besides,  I'm  not  really.  I  can't  help  it.  I 
can't  help  it!" 

"But,  sweetheart,"  her  Captain  Geoffrey  would  say, 
suddenly  ashamed  of  his  elephantine  humour,  "there's 
nothing  to  cry  about.  I  would  be  proud  to  be  a  Japanese. 
They  are  jolly  brave  people.  They  gave  the  Russians  a 
jolly  good  hiding." 

It  made  her  feel  well  to  hear  him  praise  her  people, 
but  she  would  say : 

"No,  no,  they're  not.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  Jap.  I 
don't  like  them.  They're  ugly  and  spiteful.  Why  can't 
we  choose  what  we  are?  I  would  be  an  English  girl — 
or  perhaps  French,"  she  added,  thinking  of  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix. 

They  left  Paris  and  went  to  Deauville ;  and  here  it 
was  that  the  serpent  first  crawled  into  Eden,  whisper- 
ing of  forbidden  fruit.  These  serpents  were  charming 
people,  amusing  men  and  smart  women,  all  anxious  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  latest  sensation,  the  Jap- 
anese millionairess  and  her  good-looking  husband 

Asako  lunched  with  them  and  dined  with  them  and  sat 
with  them  near  the  sea  in  wonderful  bathing  costumes 
which  it  would  be  a  shame  to  wet.  Conscious  of  the 
shortcomings  of  her  figure  as  compared  with  those  of 
the  lissom  mermaids  who  surrounded  her,  Asako  re- 
turned to  kimonos,  much  to  her  husband's  surprise ;  and 
the  mermaids  had  to  confess  themselves  beaten. 

She  listened  to  their  talk  and  learned  a  hundred 
things,  but  another  hundred  at  least  remained  hidden 
from  her. 

Geoffrey  left  his  wife  to  amuse  herself  in  the  cosmo- 
politan society  of  the  French  watering-place.  He  wanted 
this-  All  the  wives  whom  he  had  ever  known  seemed 
to  enjoy  themselves  best  when  away  from  their  hus- 
bands' company.  He  did  not  quite  trust  the  spirit  of  mu- 
tual adoration,  which  the  gods  had  given  to  him  and  his 
bride.  Perhaps  it  was  an  unhealthy  symptom.  Worse 


HONEYMOON  35 

still,  it  might  be  Bad  Form.  He  wanted  Asako  to  be 
natural  and  to  enjoy  herself,  and  not  to  make  their  love 
into  a  prison  house. 

But  he  felt  a  bit  lonely  when  he  was  away  from  her. 
Occupation  did  not  seem  to  come  easily  to  him  as  it  did 
when  she  was  there  to  suggest  it.  Sometimes  he  would 
loaf  up  and  down  on  the  esplanade ;  and  sometimes  he 
would  take  strenuous  swims  in  the  sea.  He  became  the 
prey  of  the  bores  who  haunt  every  seaside  place  at  home 
and  abroad,  lurking  for  lonely  and  polite  people  upon 
whom  they  may  unload  their  conversation. 

All  these  people  seemed  either  to  have  been  in  Japan 
themselves  or  to  have  friends  and  relations  who  knew 
the  country  thoroughly. 

A  wonderful  land,  they  assured  him.  The  nation  of  the 
future,  the  Garden  of  the  East,  but  of  course  Captain 
Barrington  knew  Japan  well.  No,  he  had  never  been 
there?  Ah,  but  Mrs.  Barrington  must  have  described 
it  all  to  him.  Impossible!  Really?  Not  since  she  was  a 
baby  ?  How  very  extraordinary !  A  charming  country,  so 
quaint,  so  original,  so  picturesque,  such  a  place  to  relax 
in;  and  then  the  Japanese  girls,  the  little  mmismes,  in 
their  bright  kimonos,  who  came  fluttering  round  like 
little  butterflies,  who  were  so  gentle  and  soft  and  grate- 
ful ;  but  there !  Captain  Barrington  was  a  married  man, 
that  was  no  affair  of  his.  Ha!  Ha! 

The  elderly  roues,  who  buzzed  like  February  flies  in 
the  sunshine  of  Deauville,  seemed  to  have  particularly 
fruity  memories  of  tea-house  sprees  and  oriental  phil- 
anderings  under  the  cherry-blossoms  of  Yokohama.  Evi- 
dently, Japan  was  just  like  the  musical  comedies. 

Geoffrey  began  to  be  ashamed  of  his  ignorance  con- 
cerning his  wife's  native  country-  Somebody  had  asked 
him,  what  exactly  bushido  was.  He  had  answered  at 
random  that  it  was  made  of  rice  and  curry  powder.  By 
the  hilarious  reception  given  to  this  explanation  he  knew 
that  he  must  have  made  a  gaffe.  So  he  asked  one  of  the 
more  erudite  bores  to  give  him  the  names  of  the  best 
books  about  Japan.  He  would  "mug  it  up,"  and  get 


36  KIMONO 

some  answers  off  pat  to  the  leading  questions.  The 
erudite  one  promptly  lent  him  some  volumes  by  Lafcadio 
Hearn  and  Pierre  Loti's  Madame  Chrysantheme.  He 
read  the  novel  first  of  all.  Rather  spicy,  wasn't  it? 

Asako  found  the  book.  It  was  an  illustrated  edition; 
and  the  little  drawings  of  Japanese  scenes  pleased  her 
immensely,  so  that  she  began  to  read  the  letter  press. 

"It  is  the  story  of  a  bad  man  and  a  bad  woman,"  she 
said ;  "Geoffrey,  why  do  you  read  bad  things  ?  They 
bring  bad  conditions." 

Geoffrey  smiled.  He  was  wondering  whether  the  com- 
pany of  the  fictitious  Chrysantheme  was  more  demoral- 
izing than  that  of  the  actual  Mme.  Laroche  Meyerbeer, 
with  whom  his  wife  had  been  that  day  for  a  picnic  lunch. 

"Besides,  it  isn't  fair,"  his  wife  continued.  "People 
read  that  book  and  then  they  think  that  all  Japanese 
girls  are  bad  like  that." 

"Why,  darling,  I  didn't  think  you  had  read  it,"  Geof- 
frey expostulated,  "who  has  been  telling  you  about  it?" 

"The  Vicomte  de  Brie,"  Asako  answered.  "He  called 
me  Chrysantheme  and  I  asked  him  why." 

"Oh,  did  he?"  said  Geoffrey.  Really  it  was  time  to 
put  an  end  to  lunch  picnics  and  mermaidism.  But  Asako 
was  so  happy  and  so  shiningly  innocent. 

She  returned  to  her  circle  of  admirers,  and  Geoffrey 
to  his  studies  of  the  Far  East.  He  read  the  Lafcadio 
Hearn  books,  and  did  not  perceive  that  he  was  taking 
opium.  The  wonderful  sentences  of  that  master  of  prose 
poetry  rise  before  the  eyes  in  whorls  of  narcotic  smoke. 
They  lull  the  brain  as  in  a  dream,  and  form  themselves 
gradually  into  visions  of  a  land  more  beautiful  than  any 
land  that  has  ever  existed  anywhere,  a  country  of  vivid  rice 
plains  and  sudden  hills,  of  gracious  forests  and  red  tem- 
ple gateways,  of  wise  priests  and  folklore  imagery,  of  a 
simple-hearted  smiling  people  with  children  bright  as 
flowers  laughing  and  playing  in  unfailing  sunlight,  a  coun- 
try where  everything  is  kind,  gentle,  small,  neat,  artistic, 
and  spotlessly  clean,  where  men  become  gods  not  by 
sudden  apotheosis  but  by  the  easy  processes  of  nature,  a 


HONEYMOON  37 

country,  in  short,  which  is  the  reverse  of  our  own  poor 
vexed  contintent  where  the  monstrous  and  the  hideous 
multiply  daily. 

One  afternoon  Geoffrey  was  lounging  on  the  terrace  of 
the  hotel  reading  Kokoro,  when  his  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  the  arrival  of  Mme.  Laroche  Meyerbeer's 
motor-car  with  Asako,  her  hostess  and  another  woman 
embedded  in  its  depths.  Asako  was  the  first  to  leap  out. 
She  went  up  to  her  apartment  without  looking  to  right 
or  left,  and  before  her  husband  had  time  to  reach  her. 
Mme.  Meyerbeer  watched  this  arrow  flight  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders  before  lazily  alighting. 

"Is  all  well?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"No  serious  damage,"  smiled  the  lady,  who  is  known 
in  Deauville  as  Madame  Cythtrc,  "but  you  had  better 
go  and  console  her.  I  think  she  has  seen  the  devil  for 
the  first  time." 

He  opened  the  door  of  their  sunny  bedroom,  and 
found  Asako  packing  feverishly,  and  sobbing  in  spasms. 

"My  poor  little  darling,"  he  said,  lifting  her  in  his 
arms,  "whatever  is  the  matter?" 

He  laid  her  on  the  sofa,  took  off  her  hat,  and  loosened 
her  dress,  until  gradually  she  became  coherent- 

"He  tried  to  kiss  me,"  she  sobbed. 

"Who  did?"  her  husband  asked. 

"The  Vicomte  de  Brie." 

"Damned  little  monkey,"  cried  Geoffrey,  "I'll  break 
every  miserable  bone  in  his  pretence  of  a  body." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  protested  Asako,  "let  us  go  away  from 
here  at  once.  Let  us  go  to  Switzerland,  anywhere." 

The  serpent  had  got  into  the  garden,  but  he  had  not 
been  a  very  adroit  reptile.  He  had  shown  his  fangs ; 
and  the  woman  had  promptly  bruised  his  head  and  had 
given  him  an  eye  like  an  Impressionist  sunset,  which  for 
several  days  he  had  to  hide  from  the  ridicule  of  his 
friends. 

But  Asako  too  had  been  grievously  injured  in  the  in- 
nocence of  her  heart ;  and  it  took  all  the  snow  winds  of 
the  Engadine  to  blow  away  from  her  face  the  hot 


38  KIMONO 

defilement  of  the  man's  breath.  She  clung  closely  to 
her  husband's  protection.  She,  who  had  hitherto 
abandoned  herself  to  excessive  amiability,  barbed  the 
walls  of  their  violated  paradise  with  the  broken 
glass  of  bare  civility.  Every  man  became  suspect, 
the  German  professors  culling  Alpine  plants,  the 
mountain  maniacs  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  peaks  to  con- 
quer. She  had  no  word  for  any  of  them.  Even  the  man- 
like womenfolk,  who  golfed  and  rowed  and  clambered, 
were  to  her  indignant  eyes  dangerous  panders  to  the  lusts 
of  men,  disguised  allies  of  Madame  Cythcre. 

"Are  they  all  bad?"  she  asked  Geoffrey. 

"No,  little  girl,  I  don't  suppose  so.  They  look  too 
dismal  to  be  bad." 

Geoffrey  was  grateful  for  the  turn  of  events  which 
had  delivered  up  his  wife  again  into  his  sole  company. 
He  had  missed  her  society  more  than  he  dared  confess ; 
for  uxoriousness  is  a  pitiful  attitude.  In  fact,  it  is  Bad 
Form. 

At  this  period  he  wanted  her  as  a  kind  of  mirror  for 
his  own  mind  and  for  his  own  person.  She  saw  to  it  that 
his  clothes  were  spotless  and  that  his  tie  was  straight. 
O"  course,  he  always  dressed  for  dinner  even  when  they 
dined  in  their  room.  She  too  would  dress  herself  up  in 
her  new  finery  for  his  eyes  alone.  She  would  listen  to 
him  laying  down  the  law  on  subjects  which  he  would 
not  dare  broach  were  he  talking  to  any  one  else.  She 
flattered  him  in  that  silent  way  which  is  so  soothing 
to  a  man  of  his  character.  Her  mind  seemed  to  absorb 
his  thoughts  with  the  readiness  of  blotting  paper ;  and 
he  did  not  pause  to  observe  whether  the  impression  had 
come  out  backwards  or  forwards.  He  who  had  been 
so  mute  among  Lady  Everington's  geniuses  fell  all  of  a 
sudden  into  a  loquaciousness  which  was  merely  the  re- 
action of  his  love  for  his  wife,  the  instinct  which  makes 
the  male  bird  sing.  He  just  went  on  talking;  and  every 
day  he  became  in  his  own  estimation  and  in  that  of 
Asako,  a  more  intelligent,  a  more  original  and  a  more 
eloquent  man. 


CHAPTER  III 
EASTWARDS 

Nagaki  yo  no  From  the  deep  sleep 

To  no  nemuri  no  Of  a  long  night 

Miname-zame,  Waking, 

Nami  nori  fune  no  Sweet  is  the  sound 

Oto  no  yoki  kana.  Of  the  ship  as  it  rides  the  waves. 

WHEN  August  snow  fell  upon  St.  Moritz,  the  Harringtons 
descended  to  Milan,  Florence,  Venice  and  Rome.  To- 
wards Christmas  they  found  their  way  to  the  Riviera, 
where  they  met  Lady  Everington  at  Monte  Carlo,  very 
indignant,  or  pretending  to  be  so,  at  the  neglect  with 
which  she  had  been  treated. 

"Fairy  godmothers  are  important  people,"  she  said, 
"and  very  easily  offended-  Then,  they  turn  you  into 
wild  animals,  or  send  you  to  sleep  for  a  hundred  years. 
V'hy  didn't  you  write  to  me,  child?" 

They  were  sitting  on  the  terrace  with  the  Casino  be- 
hind them,  overlooking  the  blue  Mediterranean.  A  few 
yards  farther  on,  a  tall,  young  Englishman  was  chatting 
and  laughing  with  a  couple  of  girls  too  elaborately  beau- 
tiful and  too  dazzlingly  gowned  for  any  world  but  the 
half-world.  Suddenly  he  turned,  and  noticed  Lady  Ever- 
ington. With  a  courteous  farewell  to  his  companions, 
he  advanced  to  greet  her. 

"Aubrey  Laking,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  never  an- 
swered the  letter  I  wrote  to  you  at  Tokyo." 

"Dear  Lady  Georgie,  I  left  Tokyo  ages  ago.  It  fol- 
lowed me  back  to  England ;  and  I  am  now  second  secre- 
tary at  Christiania.  That  is  why  I  am  in  Monte  Carlo!" 

"Then  let  me  introduce  you  to  Asako  Fujinami,  who 
is  now  Mrs.  Harrington.  You  must  tell  her  all  about 
Tokyo.  It  is  her  native  city ;  but  she  has  not  seen  it  since 
she  was  in  long  clothes,  if  Japanese  babies  wear  such 
things." 

39 


40  KIMONO 

Aubrey  Laking  and  Harrington  had  been  at  Eton 
together.  They  were  old  friends,  and  were  delighted 
to  meet  once  more.  Harrington,  especially,  was  pleased 
to  have  this  opportunity  to  hear  about  Japan  from  one 
who  had  but  lately  left  the  country,  and  who  was  more- 
over a  fluent  and  agreeable  talker.  Laking  had  not 
resided  in  Japan  long  enough  to  get  tired  of  orientalism. 
He  described  the  quaint,  the  picturesque,  the  amusing 
side  of  life  in  the  East.  He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  for 
the  land  of  soft  voices  and  smiling  faces,  where  countless 
little  shops  spread  their  wares  under  the  light  of  the 
evening  lanterns,,  where  the  twang  of  the  samiscn  and  the 
geisha's  song  are  heard  coming  from  the  lighted  tea-house, 
and  the  shadow  of  her  helmet-like  coiffure  is  seen  appear- 
ing and  disappearing  in  silhouette  against  the  paper  shoji. 

The  East  was  drawing  the  Harringtons  towards  its 
perilous  coasts.  Laking's  position  at  the  Tokyo  Embassy 
had  been  taken  by  Reggie  Forsyth,  one  of  Geoffrey's 
oldest  friends,  his  best  man  at  his  wedding  and  a  light 
of  Lady  Everington's  circle.  Already,  Geoffrey  had  sent 
him  a  post-card,  saying,  "Warm  up  the  sake  bottle," 
(Geoffrey  was  becoming  quite  learned  in  things  Japan- 
ese), "and  expect  friends  shortly." 

However,  when  the  Harringtons  did  at  last  tear  them- 
selves from  the  Riviera,  they  announced  rather  disingenu- 
ously that  they  were  going  to  Egypt. 

"They  are  too  happy,"  Lady  Everington  said  to  Laking 
a  few  days  later,  "and  they  know  nothing.  I  am  afraid 
there  will  be  trouble." 

"Oh,  Lady  Georgie,"  he  replied,  "I  have  never  known 
you  to  be  a  prophetess  of  gloom.  I  would  have  thought 
the  auspices  were  most  fortunate." 

"They  ought  to  quarrel  more  than  they  do,"  Lady 
Everington  complained.  "She  ought  to  contradict  him 
more  than  she  does.  There  must  be  a  volcanic  element 
in  marriage.  It  is  a  sign  of  trouble  coming  when  the 
fires  are  quiet." 

"But  they  have  got  plenty   of   money,"  expostulated 


EASTWARDS  41 

Aubrey,  whose  troubles  were  invariably  connected  with 
his  banking  account,  "and  they  are  very  fond  of  each 
other.  Where  is  the  trouble  to  come  from?" 

"Trouble  is  on  the  lookout  for  all  of  us,  Aubrey,"  said 
his  companion,  "it  is  no  good  flying  from  it,  even.  The 
only  thing  to  do  is  to  look  it  in  the  face  and  laugh  at  it ; 
then  it  gets  annoyed  sometimes,  and  goes  away.  But 
those  two  poor  dears  are  sailing  into  the  middle  of  it, 
and  they  don't  even  know  how  to  laugh  yet." 

"You  think  that  Egypt  is  hopelessly  demoralising. 
Thousands  of  people  go  there  and  come  safely  home, 
almost  all,  in  fact,  except  Robert  Hichens's  heroines." 

"Oh  no,  not  in  Egypt,"  said  Lady  Everington ;  "Egypt 
is  only  a  stepping-stone.  They  are  going  to  Japan." 

"Well,  certainly  Japan  is  harmless  enough.  There  is 
nobody  there  worth  flirting  with  except  us  at  the 
Embassies,  and  we  generally  have  our  hands  full.  As 
for  the  visitors,  they  are  always  under  the  influence  of 
Cook's  tickets  and  Japanese  guides." 

"Aubrey  dear,  you  think  that  trouble  can  only  come 
from  flirting  or  money." 

"I  know  that  those  two  preoccupations  are  an  abundant 
source  of  trouble." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Mrs.  Harrington?"  asked  her 
Ladyship,  appearing  to  change  the  subject. 

"Oh,  a  very  sweet  little  thing." 

"Like  your  lady  friends  in  Tokyo,  the  Japanese  ones, 
I  mean?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  Japanese  ladies  look  very  pictur- 
esque, but  they  are  as  dull  as  dolls.  They  sidle  along  in 
the  wake  of  their  husbands,  and  don't  expect  to  be 
spoken  to." 

"And  have  you  no  more  intimate  experience?"  asked 
Lady  Everington.  "Really,  Aubrey,  you  have  not  been 
living  up  to  your  reputation." 

"Well,  Lady  Georgie,"  the  young  man  proceeded,  gaz- 
ing at  his  polished  boots  with  a  well-assumed  air  of  em- 
barrassment, "since  I  know  that  you  are  one  of  the 
enlightened  ones,  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  did  keep 


42  KIMONO 

a  little  establishment  a  la  Pierre  Loti.  My  Japanese 
teacher  thought  it  would  be  a  good  way  of  improving  my 
knowledge  of  the  local  idiom ;  and  this  knowledge  meant 
an  extra  hundred  pounds  to  me  for  interpreter's  allow- 
ance, as  it  is  called.  I  thought,  too,  that  it  would  be  a 
relief  after  diplomatic  dinner  parties  to  be  able  to  swear 
for  an  hour  or  so,  big  round  oaths  in  the  company  of  a 
dear  belcved  one  who  would  not  understand  me.  So 
my  teacher  undertook  to  provide  me  with  a  suitable 
female  companion.  He  did.  In  fact,  he  introduced  me 
to  his  sister ;  and  the  suitability  was  based  on  the  fact 
that  she  held  the  same  position  under  my  predecessor, 
a  man  whom  I  dislike  exceedingly.  But  this  I  only  found 
out  later  on.  She  was  dull,  deadly  dull.  I  couldn't  even 
make  her  jealous.  She  was  as  dull  as  my  Japanese 
grammar;  and  when  I  had  passed  my  examination  and 
burnt  my  books,  I  dismissed  her." 

"Aubrey,  what  a  very  wicked  story !" 

"No,  Lady  Georgie,  it  was  not  even  wicked.  She  was 
not  real  enough  to  sin  with-  The  affair  had  not  even 
the  excitement  of  badness  to  keep  it  going." 

"Do  you  know  the  Japanese  well?"  Lady  Everington 
returned  to  the  highroad  of  her  inquiry. 

"No,  nobody  does ;  they  are  a  most  secretive  people." 

"Do  you  think  that,  if  the  Barringtons  go  to  Japan, 
there  is  any  danger  of  Asako  being  drawn  back  into  the 
bosom  of  her  family?" 

"No,  I  shouldn't  think  so,"  Laking  replied,  "Japanese 
life  is  so  very  uncomfortable,  you  know,  even  to  the 
Japs  themselves,  when  once  they  have  got  used  to  living 
in  Europe  or  America.  They  sleep  on  the  floor,  their 
clothes  are  inconvenient,  and  their  food  is  nasty,  even  in 
the  houses  of  the  rich  ones." 

"Yes,  it  must  be  a  peculiar  country.  What  do  you 
think  is  the  greatest  shock  for  the  average  traveller  who 
goes  there?" 

"Lady  Georgie,  you  are  asking  me  very  searching 
questions  to-day.  I  don't  think  I  will  answer  any  more." 

"Just  this  one,"  she  pleaded. 


EASTWARDS  43 

He  considered  his  boots  again  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
raising  his  face  to  hers  with  that  humorous  challenging 
look  which  he  assumes  when  on  the  verge  of  some  indis- 
cretion, he  replied, — 

"The  Yoshiwara." 

"Yes,"  said  her  Ladyship,  "I  have  heard  of  such  a  place. 
It  is  a  kind  of  Vanity  Fair,  isn't  it,  for  all  the  cocottes 
of  Tokyo?" 

"It's  more  than  that,"  Laking  answered ;  "it  is  a  market 
of  human  flesh,  with  nothing  to  disguise  the  crude  fact 
except  the  picturesqueness  of  the  place.  It  is  a  square 
enclosure  as  large  as  a  small  town.  In  this  enclosure 
are  shops,  and  in  the  shop  windows  women  are  displayed 
just  like  goods,  or  like  animals  in  cages ;  for  the  windows 
have  wooden  bars.  Some  of  the  girls  sit  there  stolidly 
like  stuffed  images,  some  of  them  come  to  the  bars  and 
try  to  catch  hold  of  the  passers-by,  just  like  monkeys, 
and  joke  with  them  and  shout  after  them.  But  I  could 
not  understand  what  they  said — fortunately,  perhaps. 
The  girls, — there  must  be  several  thousands — are  all 
dressed  up  in  bright  kimonos.  It  really  is  a  very  pretty 
sight,  until  one  begins  to  think.  They  have  their  price 
tickets  hung  up  in  the  shop  windows,  one  shilling  up  to 
one  pound.  That  is  the  greatest  shock  which  Japan  has 
in  store  for  the  ordinary  tourist." 

Lady  Everington  was  silent  for  a  moment ;  her  flippant 
companion  had  become  quite  serious. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "is  it  any  worse  than  Piccadilly 
Circus  at  night?" 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  better  or  worse,"  argued  Lak- 
ing. "Such  a  purely  mercenary  system  is  a  terrible 
offence  to  our  most  cherished  belief.  We  may  be  hypo- 
crites, but  our  hypocrisy  itself  is  an  admission  of  guilt 
and  an  act  of  worship.  To  us,  even  to  the  readiest  sinners 
among  us,  woman  is  always  something  divine.  The 
lowest  assignation  of  the  streets  has  at  least  a  disguise 
of  romance.  It  symbolises  the  words  and  the  ways  of 
Love,  even  if  it  parodies  them.  But  to  the  Japanese, 


44  KIMONO 

woman  must  be  merely  animal.  You  buy  a  girl  as  you 
buy  a  cow." 

Lady  Everington  shivered,  but  she  tried  to  live  up  to 
her  reputation  of  being  shocked  by  nothing. 

"Well,  that  is  true,  after  all,  whether  in  Piccadilly  or 
in  the  Yoshiwara.  All  prostitution  is  just  a  commercial 
transaction." 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  young  diplomat,  "but  what  about 
the  Ideal  at  the  back  of  our  minds?  Passion  is  often  a 
grotesque  incarnation  of  the  Ideal,  like  a  savage's  rude 
image  of  his  god.  A  glimpse  of  the  ideal  is  possible  in 
Piccadilly,  and  impossible  in  the  Yoshiwara.  The  divine 
something  was  visible  in  Marguerite  Gautier ;  little  Hugh 
saw  it  even  in  Nana.  For  one  thing,  here  in  London,  in 
the  dirtiest  of  sordid  dramas,  it  is  still  the  woman  who 
gives,  but  in  Japan  it  is  always  the  man  who  takes." 

"Aubrey,"  said  his  friend,  "I  had  no  idea  that  you  were 
a  poet,  or  in  other  words  that  you  ever  talked  nonsense 
without  laughing.  You  think  such  a  shock  is  strong 
enough  to  upset  the  Barrington  menage?" 

"It  will  give  furiously  to  think,"  he  answered,  "to  poor 
old  Geoffrey,  who  is  a  very  straight,  clean  and  honest 
fellow,  not  overused  to  furious  thinking.  I  suppose  if 
one  married  a  monkey,  one  might  persuade  oneself  of 
her  humanity,  until  one  saw  her  kindred  in  cages." 

"Poor  little  Asako,  my  latest  god-daughter!"  cried 
Lady  Everington.  "Really,  Aubrey,  you  are  very  rude !" 

"I  did  not  mean  to  be,"  said  Laking  penitently.  "She 
is  a  most  ingratiating  little  creature,  like  a  lazy  kitten ; 
but  I  think  it  is  unwise  for  him  to  take  her  to  Japan. 
All  kinds  of  latent  orientalisms  may  develop." 


The  spring  was  at  hand,  the  season  of  impulse,  when 
we  obey  most  readily  the  sudden  stirrings  of  our  hearts. 
Even  in  the  torrid  climate  of  Egypt,  squalls  of  rain  passed 
over  like  stray  birds  of  passage.  Asako  Barrington  felt 
the  fresh  influence  and  the  desire  to  do  new  things  in  new 
places.  Hitherto  she  had  evinced  very  little  inclination  to 


EASTWARDS  45 

revisit  the  home  of  her  ancestors.  But  on  their  return 
from  the  temples  of  Luxor,  she  said  quite  unexpectedly 
to  Geoffrey, — 

"If  we  go  to  Japan  now,  we  shall  be  in  time  to  see  the 
cherry-blossoms." 

"Why,  little  Yum  Yum,"  cried  her  husband,  delighted, 
"are  you  tired  of  Pharaohs?" 

"Egypt  is  very  interesting,"  said  Asako,  correctly ;  "it 
is  wonderful  to  think  of  these  great  places  standing  here 
for  thousands  and  thousands  of  years.  But  it  makes 
one  sad,  don't  you  think?  Everybody  here  seems  to 
have  died  long,  long  ago.  It  would  be  nice  to  see  green 
fields  again,  wouldn't  it,  Geoffrey  dearest?" 

The  voice  of  the  Spring  was  speaking  clearly. 

"And  you  really  want  to  go  to  Japan,  sweetheart  ?  It's 
the  first  time  I've  heard  you  say  you  want  to  go." 

"Uncle  and  Aunt  Murata  in  Paris  used  always  to  say 
about  now,  'If  we  go  back  to  Japan  we  shall  be  in  time 
to  see  the  cherry-blossoms.' " 

"Why,"  asked  Geoffrey,  "do  the  Japanese  make  such 
a  fuss  about  their  cherry-blossoms?" 

"They  must  be  very  pretty,"  answered  his  wife,  "like 
great  clouds  of  snow.  Besides,  the  cherry-flowers  are 
supposed  to  be  like  the  Japanese  spirit." 

"So  you  are  my  little  cherry-blossom — is  that  right?" 

"Oh  no,  not  the  women,"  she  replied,  "the  men  are  the 
cherry-blossoms." 

Geoffrey  laughed.  It  seemed  absurd  to  him  to  com- 
pare a  man  to  the  frail  and  transient  beauty  of  a  flower. 

"Then  what  about  the  Japanese  ladies,"  he  asked,  "if 
the  men  are  blossoms?" 

Asako  did  not  think  they  had  any  special  flower  to 
symbolise  their  charms.  She  suggested, — 

"The  bamboo,  they  say,  because  the  wives  have  to 
bend  under  the  storms  when  their  husbands  are  angry. 
But,  Geoffrey,  you  are  never  angry.  You  do  not  give 
me  a  chance  to  be  like  the  bamboo." 

Next  day,  he  boldly  booked  their  tickets  for  Tokyo. 


46  KIMONO 

The  long  sea  voyage  was  a  pleasant  experience,  broken 
by  fleeting  visits  to  startled  friends  in  Ceylon  and  at 
Singapore,  and  enlivened  by  the  close  ephemeral  intima- 
cies of  life  on  board  ship. 

There  was  a  motley  company  on  board  S.  S.  Sumatra; 
a  company  whose  most  obvious  elements,  the  noisy 
and  bibulous  pests  in  the  smoking-room  and  the  ladies 
of  mysterious  destination  with  whom  they  dallied,  were 
dismissed  by  Geoffrey  at  once  as  being  terrible  bounders. 
Beneath  this  scum  more  congenial  spirits  came  to  light, 
officers  and  Government  officials  returning  to  their  posts, 
and  a  few  globe-trotters  of  leisure.  Everybody  seemed 
anxious  to  pay  attention  to  the  charming  Japanese  lady ; 
and  from  such  incessant  attention  it  is  difficult  to  escape 
within  the  narrow  bounds  of  ship  life.  The  only  way  to 
keep  off  the  impossibles  was  to  form  a  bodyguard  of  the 
possibles.  The  seclusion  of  the  honeymoon  paradise  had 
to  be  opened  up  for  once  in  a  way. 

Of  course,  there  was  much  talk  about  the  East ;  but 
it  was  a  different  point  of  view,  from  that  of  the  enthusi- 
asts of  Deauville  and  the  Riviera.  These  men  and  women 
had  many  of  them  lived  in  India,  the  Malay  States,  Japan, 
or  the  open  ports  of  China,  lived  there  to  earn  their 
bread  and  butter,  not  to  dream  about  the  Magic  of  the 
Orient.  For  such  as  these  the  romance  had  faded.  The 
pages  of  their  busy  lives  were  written  within  a  mourning 
border  of  discontent,  of  longing  for  that  home  land,  to 
which  on  the  occasion  of  their  rare  holidays  they  re- 
turned so  readily,  and  which  seemed  to  have  no  particular 
place  or  use  for  them  when  they  did  return.  They  were 
members  of  the  British  Dispersion;  but  their  Zion  was 
of  more  comfort  to  them  as  a  sweet  memory  than  as  an 
actual  home. 

"Yes,"  they  would  say  about  the  land  of  their  exile, 
"it  is  very  picturesque." 

But  their  faces,  lined  or  pale,  their  bitterness  and  their 
reticence,  told  of  years  of  strain,  laboriously  money-earn- 
ing, in  lands  where  relaxations  are  few  and  forced,  where 
climatic  conditions  are  adverse,  where  fevers  lurk,  and 


EASTWARDS  47 

where  the  white  minority  are  posted  like  soldiers  in  a 
lonely  fort,  ever  suspicious,  ever  on  the  watch. 


The  most  faithful  of  Asako's  bodyguard  was  a  country- 
man of  her  own,  Viscount  Kamimura,  the  son  of  a  cele- 
brated Japanese  statesman  and  diplomat,  who,  after  com- 
pleting his  course  at  Cambridge,  was  returning  to  his 
own  country  for  the  first  time  after  many  years. 

He  was  a  shy  gentle  youth,  very  quiet  and  refined,  a 
little  effeminate,  even,  in  his  exaggerated  gracefulness 
and  in  his  meticulous  care  for  his  clothes  and  his  person. 
He  avoided  all  company  except  that  of  the  Harringtons, 
probably  because  a  similarity  in  circumstances  formed 
a  bond  between  him  and  his  country-woman. 

He  had  a  high,  intellectual  forehead,  the  beautiful  deep 
brown  eyes  of  Asako,  curling,  sarcastic  lips,  a  nose  almost 
aquiline  but  starting  a  fraction  of  an  inch  too  low  be- 
tween his  eyes.  He  had  read  everything,  he  remembered 
everything,  and  he  had  played  lawn  tennis  for  his  uni- 
versity. 

He  was  returning  to  Japan  to  be  married.  When 
Geoffrey  asked  him  who  his  fiancee  was,  he  replied  that 
he  did  not  know  yet,  but  that  his  relatives  would  tell 
him  as  soon  as  ever  he  arrived  in  Japan. 

"Haven't  you  got  any  say  in  the  matter?"  asked  the 
Englishman. 

"Oh  yes,"  he  answered,  "If  I  actually  dislike  her,  I 
need  not  marry  her;  but,  of  course,  the  choice  is  limited, 
so  I  must  try  not  to  be  too  hard  to  please." 

Geoffrey  thought  that  it  must  be  because  of  his  extreme 
aristocracy  that  so  few  maidens  in  Japan  were  worthy 
of  his  hand.  But  Asako  asked  the  question, — 

"Why  is  the  choice  so  small?" 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "there  are  not  many  girls  in  Japan 
who  can  speak  both  English  and  French,  and  as  I  am 
going  into  the  Diplomatic  Service  and  shall  leave  Japan 
again  shortly,  that  is  an  absolute  necessity ;  besides,  she 
must  have  a  very  good  degree  from  her  school." 


48  KIMONO 

Geoffrey  could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  laughing. 
This  idea  of  choosing  a  wife  like  a  governess  for  her 
linguistic  accomplishments  seemed  to  him  exceedingly 
comic. 

"You  don't  mind  trusting  other  people,"  he  said,  "to 
arrange  your  marriage  for  you?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  the  young  Japanese,  "they  are 
my  own  relatives,  and  they  will  do  their  best  for  me.  They 
are  all  older  than  I  am,  and  they  have  had  the  experience 
of  their  own  marriages." 

"But,"  said  Geoffrey,  "when  you  saw  your  friends  in 
England  choosing  for  themselves,  and  falling  in  love  and 
marrying  for  love's  sake ?" 

"Some  of  them  chose  for  themselves  and  married  bar- 
maids and  divorced  persons,  just  for  the  reason  that 
they  were  in  love  and  uncontrolled.  So  they  brought 
shame  on  their  families,  and  are  probably  now  very 
unhappy.  I  think  they  would  have  done  better  if  they 
had  let  their  relatives  choose  for  them." 

"Yes;  but  the  others  who  marry  girls  of  their  own 
set?" 

"I  think  their  choice  is  not  really  free  at  all.  I  do  not 
think  it  is  so  much  the  girl  who  attracts  them.  It  is  the 
plans  and  intentions  of  those  around  them  which  urge 
them  on.  It  is  a  kind  of  mesmerism.  The  parents  of 
the  young  man  and  the  parents  of  the  young  girl  make 
the  marriage  by  force  of  will.  That  also  is  a  good  way. 
It  is  not  so  very  different  from  our  system  in  Japan." 

"Don't  you  think  that  people  in  England  marry  because 
they  love  each  other?"  asked  Asako. 

"Perhaps  so,"  replied  Kamimura,  "but  in  our  Japanese 
language  we  have  no  word  which  is  quite  the  same  as 
your  word  Love.  So  they  say  we  do  not  know  what  this 
Love  is.  It  may  be  so,  perhaps.  Anyhow  Mr.  Barring- 
ton  will  not  wish  to  learn  Japanese,  I  think." 

Geoffrey  liked  the  young  man.  He  was  a  good  athlete, 
he  was  unassuming  and  well-bred,  he  clearly  knew  the 
difference  between  Good  and  Bad  Form.  Geoffrey's 
chief  misgiving  with  regard  to  Japan  had  been  a  doubt  as 


EASTWARDS  49 

to  the  wisdom  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  his  wife's 
kindred.  How  dreadful  if  they  turned  out  to  be  a  collec- 
tion of  oriental  curios  with  whom  he  would  not  have  one 
idea  in  common ! 

The  company  of  this  young  aristocrat,  in  no  way  dis- 
tinguishable from  an  Englishman  except  for  a  certain 
grace  and  maturity,  reassured  him.  No  doubt  his  wife 
would  have  cousins  like  this;  clean,  manly  fellows  who 
would  take  him  shooting  and  with  whom  he  could  enjoy 
a  game  of  golf.  He  thought  that  Kamimura  must  be 
typical  of  the  young  Japanese  of  the  upper  classes.  He 
did  not  realize  that  he  was  an  official  product,  chosen  by 
his  Government  and  carefully  moulded  and  polished,  not 
to  be  a  Japanese  at  home,  but  to  be  a  Japanese  abroad, 
the  qualified  representative  of  a  First  Class  Power. 

Kamimura  left  the  boat  with  them  at  Colombo  and 
joined  them  in  their  visit  to  some  tea-planting  relatives. 
He  was  ready  to  do  the  same  at  Singapore,  but  he  re- 
ceived an  urgent  cable  from  Japan  recalling  him  at  once. 

"I  must  not  be  too  late  for  my  own  wedding,"  he  said, 
during  their  last  lunch  together  at  Raffles's  Hotel.  "It 
would  be  a  terrible  sin  against  the  laws  of  Filial  Piety." 

"Whatever  is  that?"  asked  Asako. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Barrington,  are  you  a  daughter  of  Japan, 
and  have  never  heard  of  the  Twenty-four  Children?" 

"No;  who  are  they?" 

"They  are  model  children,  the  paragons  of  goodness, 
celebrated  because  of  their  love  for  their  fathers  and 
mothers.  One  of  them  walked  miles  and  miles  every  day 
to  get  water  from  a  certain  spring  for  his  sick  mother ; 
another,  when  a  tiger  was  going  to  eat  his  father,  rushed 
to  the  animal  and  cried,  'No,  eat  me  instead !'  Little  boys 
and  girls  in  Japan  are  always  being  told  to  be  like  the 
Twenty-four  Children." 

"Oh,  how  I'd  hate  them !"  cried  Asako. 

"That  is  because  you  are  a  rebellious,  individualistic 
Englishwoman.  You  have  lost  that  sense  of  family 
union,  which  makes  good  Japanese,  brothers  and  cousins 


50  KIMONO 

and  uncles  and  aunts,  all  love  each  other  publicly,  how- 
ever much  they  may  hate  each  other  in  private." 

"That  is  very  hypocritical !" 

"It  is  the  social  law,"  replied  Kamimura.  "In  Japan 
the  family  is  the  important  thing.  You  and  I  are  noth- 
ing. If  you  want  to  get  on  in  the  world  you  must  always 
be  subject  to  your  family.  Then  you  are  sure  to  get  on 
however  stupid  you  may  be.  In  England  you  seem  to 
use  your  families  chiefly  to  quarrel  with." 

"I  think  our  relatives  ought  to  be  just  our  best  friends," 
said  Asako. 

"They  are  that  too  in  a  way,"  the  young  man  an- 
swered. "In  Japan  it  would  be  better  to  be  born  without 
hands  and  feet  than  to  be  born  without  relatives." 


CHAPTER  IV 
NAGASAKI 

Hono-bono  to  My  thoughts  are  with  a  boat 

Akashi  no  ura  no  Which  travels  island-hid 

Asa-yiri  ni  In  the  morning-mist 

Shima-kakure-yuku  Of  the  shore  of  Akashi 

Fune  wo  shi  zo  otnou.  Dim,  dim  1 

AFTER  Hongkong,  they  let  the  zone  of  eternal  summer 
behind  them.  The  crossing  from  Shanghai  to  Japan  was 
rough,  and  the  wind  bitter.  But  on  the  first  morning  in 
Japanese  waters  Geoffrey  was  on  deck  betimes  to  enjoy 
to  the  full  the  excitement  of  arrival.  They  were  ap- 
proaching Nagasaki.  It  was  a  misty  dawn.  The  sky  was 
like  mother-of-pearl,  and  the  sea  like  mica.  Abrupt  grey 
islands  appeared  and  disappeared,  phantasmal,  like  guar- 
dian spirits  of  Japan,  representatives  of  those  myriads  of 
Shinto  deities  who  have  the  Empire  in  their  keeping. 

Then,  suddenly  from  behind  the  cliff  of  one  of  the 
islands  a  fishing  boat  came  gliding  with  the  silent  state- 
liness  of  a  swan.  The  body  of  the  boat  was  low  and 
slender,  built  of  some  white,  shining  wood ;  from  the 
middle  rose  the  high  sail  like  a  silver  tower.  It  looked 
like  the  soul  of  that  sleeping  island  setting  out  upon  a 
dream  journey. 

The  mist  was  dissolving,  slowly  revealing  more  islands 
and  more  boats.  Some  of  them  passed  quite  close  to  the 
steamer ;  and  Geoffrey  could  see  the  fishermen,  dwarfish 
figures  straining  at  the  oar  or  squatting  at  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  looking  like  Nibelungen  on  the  quest  for  the 
Rhinegold.  He  could  hear  their  strange  cries  to  each 
other  and  to  the  steamer,  harsh  like  the  voice  of  sea-gulls. 

Asako  came  on  deck  to  join  her  husband.  The  thrill 
of  returning  to  Japan  had  scattered  her  partiality  for 
late  sleeping.  She  was  dressed  in  a  tailor-made  coat  and 

51 


52  KIMONO 

skirt  of  navy-blue  serge.  Her  shoulders  were  wrapped 
in  a  broad  stole  of  sable.  Her  head  was  bare.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  inherited  instinct  of  generations  of  Japanese 
women,  who  never  cover  their  heads,  which  made  her 
dislike  hats  and  avoid  wearing  them  if  possible. 

The  sun  was  still  covered,  but  the  view  was  clear  as 
far  as  the  high  mountains  on  the  horizon  towards  which 
the  ship  was  ploughing  her  way. 

"Look,  Asako,  Japan !" 

She  was  not  looking  at  the  distance.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  an  emerald  islet  half  a  mile  or  less  from  the 
steamer's  course,  a  jewel  of  the  seas.  It  rose  to  the 
height  of  two  hundred  feet  or  so,  a  conical  knoll,  densely 
wooded.  On  the  summit  appeared  a  scar  of  rock  like  a 
ruined  castle,  and,  rising  from  the  rock's  crest,  a  single 
pine-tree.  Its  trunk  was  twisted  by  all  the  winds  of 
Heaven.  Its  long,  lean  branches  groped  the  air  like  the 
arms  of  a  blinded  demon.  It  seemed  to  have  an  almost 
human  personality  an  expression  of  fruitless  striving, 
pathetic  yet  somehow  sinister — a  Prometheus  among 
trees.  Geoffrey  followed  his  wife's  gaze  to  the  base  of 
the  island  where  a  shoal  of  brown  rocks  trailed  out  to 
seawards.  In  a  miniature  bay  he  saw  a  tiny  beach  of 
golden  sand,  and,  planted  in  the  sand,  a  red  gateway, 
two  uprights  and  two  lintels,  the  lower  one  held  between 
the  posts,  the  upper  one  laid  across  them  and  protruding 
on  either  side.  It  is  the  simplest  of  architectural  de- 
signs, but  strangely  suggestive.  It  transformed  that 
wooded  island  into  a  dwelling-place.  It  cast  an  enchant- 
ment over  it,  and  seemed  to  explain  the  meaning  of  the 
pine-tree.  The  place  was  holy,  an  abode  of  spirits. 

Geoffrey  had  read  enough  by  now  to  recognize  the  gate- 
way as  a  "torii" ;  a  religious  symbol  in  Japan  which  al- 
ways announces  the  neighbourhood  of  a  shrine.  It  is  a 
common  feature  of  the  country-side,  as  familiar  as  the 
crucifix  in  Catholic  lands. 

But  Asako,  seeing  the  beauty  of  her  country  for  the 
first  time,  and  unaware  of  the  dimming  cloud  of  archaeo- 
logical explanations,  clapped  her  hands  together  three 


NAGASAKI  53 

times  in  sheer  delight ;  or  was  it  in  unconscious  obedience 
to  the  custom  of  her  race  which  in  this  way  calls  upon 
its  gods?  Then  with  a  movement  entirely  occidental 
she  threw  her  arms  round  her  husband's  neck,  kissing 
him  with  all  the  devotion  of  her  being. 

"Dear  old  Geoffrey,  I  love  you  so,"  she  murmured. 
Her  brown  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

The  steamer  passed  into  a  narrow  channel,  a  kind  of 
fiord,  with  wooded  hills  on  both  sides.  The  forests  were 
green  with  spring  foliage.  Never  had  Geoffrey  seen 
such  a  variety  or  such  density  of  verdure.  Every  tree 
seemed  to  be  different  from  its  neighbour ;  and  the  hill- 
sides were  packed  with  trees  like  a  crowded  audience. 
Here  and  there  a  spray  of  mountain  cherry-blossom  rose 
among  the  green  like  a  jet  of  snow. 

At  the  foot  of  the  woods,  by  the  edge  of  the  calm 
water,  the  villages  nestled.  Only  roofs  could  be  seen, 
high,  brown,  thatched  roofs  with  a  line  of  sword-leaved 
irises  growing  along  the  roof-ridge  like  a  crown.  These 
native  cottages  looked  like  timid  animals,  cowering  in 
their  forms  under  the  protecting  trees.  One  felt  that  at 
any  time  an  indiscreet  hoot  of  the  steamer  might  send 
them  scuttering  back  to  the  forest  depths.  There  were  no 
signs  of  life  in  these  submerged  villages,  where  the  fight 
between  the  forester's  axe  and  primal  vegetation  seemed 
still  undecided.  Life  was  there ;  but  it  was  hidden  under 
the  luxuriance  of  the  overgrowth,  hidden  to  casual  pass- 
ers-by like  the  life  of  insects.  Only  by  the  seaside, 
where  the  houses  were  clustered  together  above  a  sea- 
wall of  cyclopean  stones,  and  on  the  beach,  where  the 
long  narrow  boats,  sharp-prowed  and  piratical,  were 
drawn  up  to  the  shore,  the  same  gnome-like  little  men, 
with  a  generous  display  of  naked  brown  limbs,  were 
sawing  and  hammering  and  mending  their  nets. 

The  steamer  glided  up  the  fiord  towards  a  cloud  of 
black  smoke  ahead.  Unknown  to  Geoffrey,  it  passed  the 
grey  Italianate  Catholic  cathedral,  the  shrine  of  the  old 
Christian  faith  of  Japan  planted  there  by  Saint  Francis 


54  KIMONO 

Xavier  four  hundred  years  ago.  Anchor  was  cast  off  the 
island  of  Deshima,  now  moored  to  the  mainland,  where 
during  the  locked  centuries  the  Dutch  merchants  had 
been  permitted  to  remain  in  profitable  servitude.  De- 
shima has  now  been  swallowed  up  by  the  Japanese  town, 
and  its  significance  has  shifted  across  the  bay  to  where 
the  smoke  and  din  of  the  Mitsubishi  Dockyard  prepare 
romantic  visitors  for  the  modern  industrial  life  of  the 
new  Japan.  Night  and  day,  the  furnace  fires  are  roar- 
ing; and  ten  thousand  workmen  are  busy  building  ships 
of  war  and  ships  of  peace  for  the  Britain  of  the  Pacific. 

The  quarantine  officers  came  on  board,  little,  brown 
men  in  uniform,  absurdly  self-important.  Then  the  ship 
was  besieged  by  a  swarm  of  those  narrow,  primitive 
boats  called  sampan,  which  Loti  has  described  as  a  kind 
of  barbaric  gondola,  all  jostling  each  other  to  bring  mer- 
chants of  local  wares,  damascene,  tortoise-shell,  pottery 
and  picture  post  cards  aboard  the  vessel,  and  to  take 
visitors  ashore. 

Geoffrey  and  Asako  were  among  the  first  to  land.  The 
moment  of  arrival  on  Japanese  soil  brought  a  pang  of 
disappointment.  The  sea-front  at  Nagasaki  seemed  very 
like  a  street  in  any  starveling  European  town.  It  pre- 
sented a  line  of  offices  and  consulates  built  in  Western 
style,  without  distinction  and  without  charm.  Customs' 
officers  and  policemen  squinted  suspiciously  at  the 
strangers.  A  few  women,  in  charge  of  children  or  mar- 
ket-baskets, stared  blankly. 

"Why,  they  are  wearing  kimonos !"  exclaimed  Asako, 
"but  how  dirty  and  dusty  they  are.  They  look  as  though 
they  had  been  sleeping  in  them !" 

The  Japanese  women,  indeed,  cling  to  their  national 
dress.  But  to  the  Barringtons,  landing  at  Nagasaki,  they 
seemed  ugly,  shapeless  and  dingy.  Their  hair  was  greasy 
arid  unkempt.  Their  faces  were  stupid  and  staring. 
Their  figures  were  hidden  in  the  muffle  of  their  dirty 
garments.  Geoffrey  had  been  told  they  have  baths  at  least 
once  a  day,  but  he  was  inclined  to  doubt  it.  Or  else,  it 
was  because  they  all  bathed  in  the  same  bath  and  their 


NAGASAKI  55 

ablutions  were  merely  an  exchange  of  grime.  But  where 
were  those  butterfly  girls,  who  dance  with  fan  and  bat- 
tledore on  our  cups  and  saucers? 

The  rickshaws  were  a  pleasant  experience,  the  one- 
man  perambulators ;  and  the  costume  of  the  rickshaw- 
runners  was  delightful,  and  their  gnarled,  indefatigable 
legs.  With  their  tight  trunk-hose  of  a  coarse  dark-blue 
material  and  short  coat  to  match  like  an  Eton  jacket  and 
with  their  large,  round  mushroom  hats,  they  were  like 
figures  from  the  crowd  of  a  Flemish  Crucifixion. 

Behind  the  Barrington's  sampan,  a  large  lighter  came 
alongside  the  wharf.  It  was  black  with  coal-dust,  and 
in  one  corner  was  heaped  a  pile  of  shallow  baskets,  such 
as  are  used  in  coaling  vessels  at  Japanese  ports,  being 
slipped  from  hand  to  hand  in  unbroken  chain  up  the 
ship's  side  and  down  again  to  the  coal  barge.  The  work 
was  finished.  The  lighter  was  empty  except  for  a  crowd 
of  coal-stained  coolies  which  it  was  bringing  back  to 
Nagasaki.  These  were  dressed  like  the  rickshaw-men. 
They  wore  tight  trousers,  short  jackets  and  straw  san- 
dals. They  were  sitting,  wearied,  on  the  sides  of  the 
barge,  wiping  black  faces  with  black  towels.  Their  hair 
was  long,  lank  and  matted.  Their  hands  were  bruised 
and  shapeless  with  the  rough  toil. 

"Poor  men,"  sighed  Asako,  "they've  had  hard  work !" 

The  crowd  of  them  passed,  peering  at  the  English  peo- 
ple and  chattering  in  high  voices.  Geoffrey  had  never 
seen  such  queer-looking  fellows,  with  their  long  hair, 
clean-shaven  faces,  and  stumpy  bow-legs.  One  more  dis- 
heveled than  the  others  was  standing  near  him  with 
tunic  half-open.  It  exposed  a  woman's  breast,  black, 
loose  and  hard  like  leather. 

"They  are  women !"  he  exclaimed,  "what  an  extraordi- 
nary thing!" 

But  the  children  of  Nagasaki — surely  there  could  be  no 
such  disillusionment.  They  are  laughing,  happy,  many- 
coloured  and  ubiquitous.  They  roll  under  the  rickshaw 
wheels.  They  peep  from  behind  the  goods  piled  on  the 
floors  of  the  shops,  a  perpetual  menace  to  shopkeepers, 


56  KIMONO 

especially  in  the  china  stores,  where  their  bird-like  pres- 
ence is  more  dangerous  than  that  of  the  dreaded  bull. 
They  are  blown  up  and  down  the  temple-steps  like 
fallen  petals.  They  gather  like  humming-birds  round  the 
itinerant  venders  of  the  streets,  the  old  men  who  balance 
on  their  bare  shoulders  their  whole  stock  in  trade  of 
sweetmeats,  syrups,  toys  or  singing  grasshoppers.  They 
are  the  dolls  of  our  own  childhood,  endowed  with  discon- 
certing life.  Around  their  little  bodies  flames  the  love 
of  colour  of  an  oriental  people,  whose  adult  taste  has  been 
disciplined  to  sombre  browns  and  greys.  Wonderful 
motley  kimonos  they  make  for  their  children  with  flower 
patterns,  butterfly  patterns,  toy  and  fairy-story  patterns, 
printed  on  flannelette — or  on  silk  for  the  little  plutocrats 
— in  all  colors,  among  which  reds,  oranges,  yellows, 
mauves,  blues  and  greens  predominate. 

They  invaded  the  depressing  atmosphere  of  the  Euro- 
pean-style hotel,  where  Geoffrey  and  Asako  were  trying 
to  enjoy  a  tasteless  lunch — their  grubby,  bare  feet  pat- 
tering on  the  worn  lino. 

It  pleased  him  to  watch  them,  playing  their  game  of 
Jonkenpan  with  much  show  of  pudgy  fingers,  and  with 
restrained  and  fitful  scamperings.  He  even  made  a  ten- 
tative bid  for  popularity  by  throwing  copper  coins.  There 
was  no  scramble  for  this  largesse.  Gravely  and  in  turn 
each  child  pocketed  his  penny ;  but  they  all  regarded 
Geoffrey  with  a  wary  and  suspicious  eye.  He,  too,  on 
closer  inspection  found  them  less  angelic  than  at  first 
sight.  The  slimy  horror  of  unwiped  noses  distressed  him, 
and  the  significant  prevalence  of  scabby  scalps. 

After  their  dull  lunch  in  this  drab  hotel,  Geoffrey  and 
his  wife  started  once  more  on  their  voyage  of  discovery. 
Nagasaki  is  a  hidden  city ;  it  flows  through  its  narrow 
valleys  like  water,  and  follows  their  serpentine  meander- 
ings  far  inland. 

They  soon  left  behind  the  foreign  settlement  and  its 
nondescript  ugliness  to  plunge  into  the  labyrinth  of  little 
native  streets,  wayward  and  wandering  like  sheep-tracks, 


NAGASAKI  57 

with  sudden  abrupt  hills  and  flights  of  steps  which 
checked  the  rickshaws'  progress.  Here,  the  nouses  of 
the  rich  people  were  closely  fenced  and  cunningly  hid- 
den ;  but  the  life  of  poverty  and  the  shopkeepers'  domes- 
ticity were  flowing  over  into  the  street  out  of  the  too 
narrow  confines  of  the  boxes  which  they  called  their 
homes. 

With  an  extra  man  to  push  behind,  the  rickshaws  had 
brought  them  up  a  zigzag  hill  to  a  cautious  wooden  gate- 
way half  open  in  a  close  fence  of  bamboo. 

"Tea-house !"  said  the  rickshaw  man,  stopping  and 
grinning.  It  was  clearly  expected  of  the  foreigners  that 
they  should  descend  and  enter. 

"Shall  we  get  out  and  explore,  sweetheart?"  suggested 
Geoffrey.  They  passed  under  the  low  gate,  up  a  peb- 
bled pathway  through  the  sweetest  fairy  garden  to  the 
entrance  of  the  tea-house,  a  stage  of  brown  boards  highly 
polished  and  never  defiled  by  the  contamination  of  muddy 
boots.  On  the  steps  of  approach  a  collection  of  geta 
(native  wooden  clogs)  and  abominable  side-spring  shoes 
told  that  guests  had  already  arrived. 

Within  the  dark  corridors  of  the  house  there  was  an 
immediate  fluttering  as  of  pigeons.  Four  or  five  little 
women  prostrated  themselves  before  the  visitors  with  a 
hissing  murmur  of  "Irasshai!  (Condescend  to  come!)." 

The  Harringtons  removed  their  boots  and  followed  one 
of  these  ladies  down  a  gleaming  corridor  with  another 
miniature  garden  in  an  enclosed  courtyard  on  one  side, 
and  paper  shoji  and  peeping  faces  on  the  other,  out  across 
a  further  garden  by  a  kind  of  oriental  Bridge  of  Sighs 
to  a  small  separate  pavilion,  which  floated  on  a  lake  of 
green  shrubs  and  pure  air,  as  though  moored  by  the 
wooden  gangway  to  the  main  block  of  the  building. 

This  summer-house  contained  a  single  small  room  like 
a  very  clean  box  with  wooden  frame,  opaque  paper  walls, 
and  pale  golden  matting.  The  only  wall  which  seemed 
at  all  substantial  presented  the  appearance  of  an  alcove. 
In  this  niche  there  hung  a  long  picture  of  cherry-blos- 
soms on  a  mountain  side,  below  which,  on  a  stand  of  dark 


58  KIMONO 

sandalwood,  squatted  a  bronze  monkey  holding  a  crystal 
ball.  This  was  the  only  ornament  in  the  room. 

Geoffrey  and  his  wife  sat  down  or  sprawled  on  square 
silk  cushions  called  sabuton.  Then  the  shoji  were  thrown 
open ;  and  they  looked  down  upon  Nagasaki. 

It  was  a  scene  of  sheer  enchantment.  The  tea-house 
was  perched  on  a  cliff  which  overhung  the  city.  The  light 
pavilion  seemed  like  the  car  of  some  pullman  aeroplane 
hovering  over  the  bay.  It  was  the  brief  half-hour  of 
evening,  the  time  of  day  when  the  magic  of  Japan  is  at 
its  most  powerful.  All  that  was  cheap  and  sordid  was 
shut  out  by  the  bamboo  fence  and  wrapped  away  in  the 
twilight  mists.  It  was  a  half-hour  of  luminous  grey- 
ness.  The  skies  were  grey  and  the  waters  of  the  bay 
and  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  A  grey  vapour  rose  from  the 
town ;  and  a  black-grey  trail  of  smoke  drifted  from  the 
dockyards  and  from  the  steamers  in  the  harbour.  The 
cries  and  activities  of  the  city  below  rose  clear  and  dis- 
tinct but  infinitely  remote,  as  sound  of  the  world  might 
reach  the  Gods  in  Heaven.  It  was  a  half-hour  of  fairy- 
land when  anything  might  happen. 

Two  little  maids  brought  tea  and  sugary  cakes,  green 
tea  like  bitter  hot  water,  insipid  and  unsatisfying.  It 
was  a  shock  to  see  the  girls'  faces  as  they  raised  the  tiny 
china  teacups.  Under  the  glaze  of  their  powder  they 
were  old  and  wise. 

They  observed  Asako's  nationality,  and  began  to  speak 
to  her  in  Japanese. 

"Their  politeness  is  put  on  to  order,"  thought  Geoffrey, 
"they  seem  forward  and  inquisitive  minxes." 

But  Asako  only  knew  a  few  set  phrases  of  her  native 
tongue.  This  baffled  the  ladies,  one  of  whom  after  a 
whispered  consultation  and  some  giggling  behind  sleeves, 
went  off  to  find  a  friend  who  would  solve  the  mystery. 

"Nesan,  Nesan  (elder  sister)"  she  called  across  the 
garden. 

Strange  little  dishes  were  produced  on  trays  of  red 
lacquer,  fish  and  vegetables  of  different  kinds  artistically 
arranged,  but  most  unpalatable. 


NAGASAKI  59 

A  third  nesan  appeared.    She  could  speak  some  English. 

"Is  Okusama  (lady)  Japanese?"  she  began,  after  she 
had  placed  the  tiny  square  table  before  Geoffrey,  and 
had  performed  a  prostration. 

Geoffrey  assented. 

Renewed  prostration  before  okusama,  and  murmured 
greetings  in  Japanese. 

"But  I  can't  speak  Japanese,"  said  Asako  laughing. 
This  perplexed  the  girl,  but  her  curiosity  prompted  her. 

"Danna  San  (master)  Ingiris'?"  she  asked,  looking  at 
Geoffrey. 

"Yes,"  said  Asako.  "Do  many  Englishmen  have  Jap- 
anese wives?" 

"Yes,  very  many,"  was  the  unexpected  answer.  "O 
Fuji  San,"  she  continued,  indicating  one  of  the  other 
maids,  "have  Ingiris'  danna  San  very  many  years  ago; 
very  kind  danna  son;  give  O  Fuji  plenty  nice  kimono;  he 
say,  O  Fuji  very  good  girl,  go  to  Ingiris'  wit  him;  O  Fuji 
say,  No,  cannot  go,  mother  very  sick;  so  danna  son  go 
away.  Give  O  Fuji  San  very  nice  finger  ring." 

She  lapsed  into  vernacular.  The  other  girl  showed  with 
feigned  embarrassment  a  little  ring  set  with  glassy  sap- 
phires. 

"Oh !"  said  Asako,  dimly  comprehending. 

"All  Ingiris'  danna  son  come  Nagasaki,"  the  talkative 
maid  went  on,  "want  Japanese  girl.  Ingiris'  danna  san 
kind  man,  but  too  plenty  drink.  Japanese  danna  san 
not  kind,  not  good.  Ingiris'  danna  san  plenty  money, 
plenty.  Nagasaki  girl  very  many  foreign  danna  san. 
Rashamen  wa  Nagasaki  meibutsu  (foreigners'  mistresses 
famous  product  of  Nagasaki).  Ingiris'  danna  san  go 
away  all  the  time.  One  year,  two  year — then  go  away 
to  Ingiris'  country." 

"Then  what  does  the  Japanese  girl  do?"  asked  Asako. 

"Other  danna  san  come,"  was  the  laconic  reply.  "Ingiris' 
danna  san  live  in  Japan,  Japanese  girl  very  nice.  Ingiris' 
danna  san  go  away,  no  want  Japanese  girl.  Japanese 
girl  no  want  go  away  Japan.  Japanese  girl  go  to  other 
country,  she  feel  very  sick ;  heart  very  lonely,  very  sad !" 


60  KIMONO 

A  weird,  unpleasant  feeling  had  stolen  into  the  little 
room,  the  presence  of  unfamiliar  thoughts  and  of  foreign 
moralities,  birds  of  unhealth. 

The  two  other  girls  who  could  not  speak  English 
were  posing  for  Geoffrey's  benefit ;  one  of  them  reclining 
against  the  framework  of  the  open  window  with  her  long 
kimono  sleeves  crossed  in  front  of  her  like  wings,  her 
painted  oval  face  fixed  on  him  in  spite  of  the  semblance 
of  downcast  eyes ;  the  other  squatting  on  her  heels  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  with  the  same  demure  expression  and 
with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  Despite  the  quietness 
of  the  poses  they  were  as  challenging  in  their  way  as 
the  swinging  hips  of  Piccadilly.  It  is  as  true  to-day  as  it 
was  in  Kaempffer's  time,  the  old  Dutch  traveler  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  that  every  hotel  in  Japan 
is  a  brothel,  and  every  tea-house  and  restaurant  a  house 
of  assignation. 

From  a  wing  of  the  building  near  by  came  the  twang- 
ing of  a  string,  like  a  banjo  string  being  tuned  in  fantastic 
quarter  tones.  A  few  sharp  notes  were  struck,  at  random 
it  seemed,  followed  by  a  few  bars  of  a  quavering  song 
and  then  a  burst  of  clownish  laughter.  Young  bloods  of 
Nagasaki  had  called  in  geisha  to  amuse  them  at  their  meal. 

"Japanese  geisha,"  said  the  tea-house  girl,  "if  danna  son 
wish  to  see  geisha  dance — ?" 

"No  thank  you,"  said  Geoffrey,  hurriedly,  "Asako 
darling,  it  is  time  we  went  home :  we  want  our  dinners." 


CHAPTER  V 

CHONKINA 

Modashi-ite  To  sit  silent 

Sakashira  suru  wo  And  look  wise 

Sake  nomitc  Is  not  to  be  compared  with 

Yei-naki  suru  ni  Drinking  sake 

Nao  shikazu  kcri.  And    making   a    riotous 

shouting. 

As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  Asako  went  to  bed.  She 
was  tired  out  by  an  orgy  of  sight-seeing  and  new  impres- 
sions. Geoffrey  said  that  he  would  have  a  short  walk 
and  a  smoke  before  turning  in.  He  took  the  road  which 
led  towards  the  harbour  of  Nagasaki. 

Chonkina,  Clwnkina,  Chon,  Chon,  Kina,  Kina, 
Yokohama,  Nagasaki,  Hakodate — Hoi! 
The  refrain  of  an  old  song  was  awakened  in  his  mind  by 
the  melodious  name  of  the  place. 

He  descended  the  hill  from  the  hotel,  and  crossed  a 
bridge  over  a  narrow  river.  The  town  was  full  of  beauty. 
The  warm  light  in  the  little  wooden  houses,  the  creamy 
light  of  the  paper  walls,  illuminated  from  within,  with 
the  black  silhouettes  of  the  home  groups  traced  upon 
them,  the  lanterns  dancing  on  the  boats  in  the  harbour, 
the  lights  on  the  larger  vessels  in  stiff  patterns  like 
propositions  of  Euclid,  the  lanterns  on  carts  and  rick- 
shaws, lanterns  like  fruit,  red.  golden  and  glowing,  and 
round  bubble  lamps  over  each  house  entrance  with 
Chinese  characters  written  upon  them  giving  the  name 
of  the  occupant. 

Chonkina  f    Chonkina ! 

As  though  in  answer  to  his  incantation.  Geoffrey 
suddenly  came  upon  Wigram.  Wigram  had  been  a 
fellow-passenger  on  board  the  steamer.  He  was  an  old 
Etonian ;  and  this  was  really  the  only  bond  between  the 

61 


62  KIMONO 

two  men.  For  Wigram  was  short,  fat  and  flabby,  dull- 
eyed  and  pasty-faced.  He  spoke  with  a  drawl;  he  had 
literary  pretensions  and  he  was  travelling  for  pleasure. 

"Hello,  Barrington,"  he  said,  "you  all  alone?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Geoffrey,  "my  wife  is  a  bit  overtired ; 
she  has  turned  in." 

"So  you  are  making  the  mosf  of  your  opportunity, 
studying  night-life,  eh,  naughty  boy?" 

"Not  much  about,  is  there?"  said  Geoffrey,  who  con- 
sidered that  a  "pi  fellow"  was  Bad  Form,  and  would  not 
be  regarded  as  such  even  by  a  creature  whose  point 
of  view  was  as  contemptible  as  that  of  Wigram. 

"Doesn't  walk  the  streets,  old  man;  but  it's  there  all 
the  same.  The  men  at  the  club  here  tell  me  that  Naga- 
saki is  one  of  the  hottest  spots  on  the  face  of  the  globe." 

"Seems  sleepy  enough,"  answered  Geoffrey. 

"Oh,  here !  these  are  just  English  warehouses  and 
consulates.  They're  always  asleep.  But  you  come  with 
me  and  see  them  dance  the  Chonkina,." 

Geoffrey  started  at  this  echo  of  his  own  thoughts,  but 
he  said, — 

"I  must  be  getting  back;  my  wife  will  be  anxious." 

"Not  yet,  not  yet.  It  will  be  all  over  in  half  an  hour, 
and  it's  worth  seeing.  I  am  just  going  to  the  club  to 
find  a  fellow  who  said  he'd  show  me  the  ropes." 

Geoffrey  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded.  After  all 
he  was  not  expected  home  so  immediately.  It  was  many 
years  since  he  had  visited  low  and  disreputable  places. 
They  were  Bad  Form,  and  had  no  appeal  for  him.  But 
the  strangeness  of  the  place  attracted  him,  and  a  longing 
for  the  first  glimpse  behind  the  scenes  in  this  inexplicable 
new  country. 

Chonkina!    Chonkina! 

Why  shouldn't  he  go  ? 

He  was  introduced  to  Wigram's  friend,  Mr.  Patterson, 
a  Scotch  merchant  of  Nagasaki,  who  lurched  out  of  the 


CHONKINA  63 

club  in  his  habitual  Saturday  evening  state  of  mellow 
inebriation. 

They  called  for  three  rickshaws,  whose  runners  seemed 
to  know  without  instructions  whither  they  had  to  go. 

"Is  it  far  from  here?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"It  is  not  so  far,"  said  the  Scotchman;  "it  is  most 
conveniently  situated." 

Noiselessly  they  sped  down  narrow  twisting  streets 
with  the  same  unfamiliar  lights  and  shadows,  the  glowing 
paper  walls,  and  the  luminous  globes  of  the  gate  lamps. 

From  the  distance  came  the  beat  of  a  drum. 

Geoffrey  had  heard  a  drum  sounded  like  that  before 
in  the  Somali  village  at  Aden,  a  savage  primitive  sound 
with  a  kind  of  marching  rhythm,  suggestive  of  the  swing 
of  hundreds  of  black  bodies  moving  to  some  obscene 
festival. 

But  here,  in  Japan,  such  music  sounded  remote  from 
the  civilisation  of  the  country,  from  the  old  as  from  the 
new. 

"Chonkina,  Chonkina,"  it  seemed  to  be  beating. 

The  rickshaws  turned  into  a  broader  street  with 
houses  taller  and  more  commanding  than  any  seen  hither- 
to. They  were  built  of  brown  wood  like  big  Swiss 
chalets,  and  were  hung  with  red  paper  lanterns  like  huge 
ripe  cherries. 

Another  stage-like  entrance,  more  fluttering  of  women 
and  low  prostrations,  a  procession  along  shining  corri- 
dors and  up  steep  stairways  like  companion-ladders, 
everywhere  a  heavy  smell  of  cheap  scent  and  powder, 
the  reek  of  the  brothel. 

The  three  guests  were  installed,  squatting  or  lounging 
around  a  low  table  with  beer  and  cakes.  There  was  a 
chorus  of  tittering  and  squeaking  voices  in  the  corridor. 
The  partition  slid  open,  and  six  little  women  came 
running  into  the  room. 

"Patasan  San!  Patasan  San!"  they  cried,  clapping 
their  hands. 

Here  at  last  were  the  butterfly  women  of  the  traveller's 
imagination.  They  wore  bright  kimonos,  red  and  blue, 


64  KIMONO 

embroidered  with  gold  thread.  Their  faces  were  pale 
like  porcelain  with  the  enamelling  effect  of  the  liquid 
powder  which  they  use.  Their  black  shiny  hair,  like 
liquorice,  was  arranged  in  fantastic  volutes,  which  were 
adorned  with  silver  bell-like  ornaments  and  paper  flowers. 
Choking  down  Geoffrey's  admiration,  a  cloud  of  heavy 
perfume  hung  around  them. 

"Good  day  to  you,"  they  squeaked  in  comical  English, 
"How  do  you  do?  I  love  you.  Please  kiss  me.  Dam! 
dam !" 

Patterson  introduced  them  by  name  as  O  Hana  f»an 
(Miss  Flower),  O  Yuki  San  (Miss  Snow),  O  En  San 
(Miss  Affinity),  O  Toshi  San  (Miss  Year),  O  Taka  San 
(Miss  Tall)  and  O  Koma  San  (Miss  Pony). 

One  of  them,  Miss  Pony,  put  her  arm  around  Geoffrey's 
neck — the  little  fingers  felt  like  the  touch  of  insects — 
and  said, — 

"My  darling,  you  love  me?" 

The  big  Englishman  disengaged  himself  gently.  It  is 
Bad  Form  to  be  rough  to  women,  even  to  Japanese 
courtesans.  He  began  to  be  sorry  that  he  had  come. 

"I  have  brought  two  very  dear  friends  of  mine,"  said 
Patterson  to  all  the  world,  "for  pleasure  artistic  rather 
than  carnal;  though  perhaps  I  can  safely  prophesy  that 
the  pleasure  of  the  senses  is  the  end  of  all  true  art.  We 
have  come  to  see  the  national  dance  of  Japan,  the  Naga- 
saki reel,  the  famous  Chonkina.  I  myself  am  familiar 
with  the  dance.  On  two  or  three  occasions  I  have  per- 
formed with  credit  in  these  very  halls.  But  these  two 
gentlemen  have  come  all  the  way  from  England  on 
purpose  to  see  the  dance.  I  therefore  request  that  you 
will  dance  it  to-night  with  care  and  attention,  with  force 
of  imagination,  with  a  sense  of  pleasurable  anticipation, 
and  with  humble  respect  to  the  naked  truth." 

He  spoke  with  the  precise  eloquence  of  intoxication, 
and  as  he  flopped  to  the  ground  again  Wigram  clapped 
him  on  the  shoulder  with  a  "Bravo,  old  man !" 

Geoffrey  felt  very  silent  and  rather  sick. 


CHONKINA  65 

Chonkina!    Chonkina! 

The  little  women  made  a  show  of  modesty,  hiding 
their  faces  behind  their  long  kimono  sleeves. 

A  servant  girl  pushed  open  the  walls  which  communi- 
cated with  the  next  room,  an  exact  replica  of  the  one  in 
which  they  were  sitting.  An  elderly  woman  in  a  sea-grey 
kimono  was  squatting  there  silent,  rigid  and  dignified. 
For  a  moment  Geoffrey  thought  that  a  mistake  had  been 
made,  that  this  was  another  guest  disturbed  in  quiet 
reflection  and  about  to  be  justly  indignant. 

But  no,  this  Roman  matron  held  in  her  lap  the  white 
disc  of  a  satnisen,  the  native  banjo,  upon  which  she 
strummed  with  a  flat  white  bone.  She  was  the  evening's 
orchestra,  an  old  geisha. 

The  six  little  butterflies  lined  up  in  front  of  her  and 
began  to  dance,  not  our  Western  dance  of  free  limbs, 
but  an  Oriental  dance  from  the  hips  with  posturings  of 
hands  and  feet.  They  sang  a  harsh  faltering  song  with- 
out any  apparent  relation  to  the  accompaniment  played 
by  that  austere  dame. 

Chonkina!    Chonkina! 
The  six  little  figures  swayed  to  and  fro. 
Chonkina!  Chonkina!  Hoi! 

With  a  sharp  cry  the  song  and  dance  stopped  abruptly. 
The  six  dancers  stood  rigid  with  hands  held  out  in 
different  attitudes.  One  of  them  had  lost  the  first  round 
and  must  pay  forfeit.  Off  came  the  broad  embroidered 
sash.  It  was  thrown  aside,  and  the  raucous  singing 
began  afresh. 

Chonkina!  Chonkina!  Hoi! 

The  same  girl  lost  again;  and  amid  shrill  titterings 
the  gorgeous  scarlet  kimono  fell  to  the  ground.  She  was 


66  KIMONO 

left  standing  in  a  pretty  blue  under-kimono  of  light  silk 
with  a  pale  pink  design  of  cherry-blossoms  starred  all 
over  it. 

Chonkina!    Chonkina! 

Round  after  round  the  game  was  played;  and  first 
one  girl  lost  and  then  another.  Two  of  them  were  stand- 
ing now  with  the  upper  part  of  their  bodies  bare.  One 
of  them  was  wearing  a  kind  of  white  lace  petticoat, 
stained  and  sour-looking,  wrapped  about  her  hips ;  the 
other  wore  short  flannel  drawers,  like  a  man's  bathing- 
pants,  coloured  in  a  Union  Jack  pattern,  some  sailor's 
offering  to  his  inamorata.  They  were  both  of  them 
young  girls.  Their  breasts  were  flat  and  shapeless. 
The  yellow  skin  ended  abruptly  at  the  throat  and  neck 
with  the  powder  line.  For  the  neck  and  face  were  a 
glaze  of  white.  The  effect  of  this  break  was  to  make 
the  body  look  as  if  it  had  lost  its  real  head  under  the 
guillotine,  and  had  received  an  ill-matched  substitute 
from  the  surgeon's  hands. 

Chonkina!     Chonkina! 

Patterson  had  drawn  nearer  to  the  performers.  His 
red  face  and  his  grim  smile  were  tokens  of  what  he 
would  have  described  as  pleasurable  anticipation.  Wig- 
ram,  too,  his  flabby  visage  paler  than  ever,  his  large  eyes 
bulging,  and  his  mouth  hanging  open,  gazed  as  in  a 
trance.  He  had  whispered  to  Geoffrey, — 

"I've  seen  the  danse  du  venire  at  Algiers,  but  this  beats 
anything." 

Geoffrey  from  behind  the  fumes  of  the  pipe-smoke 
watched  the  unreal  phantasmagoria  as  he  might  have 
watched  a  dream. 

Chonkina!     Chonkina! 
The  dance  was  more  expressive  now,  not  of  art  but 


CHONKINA  67 

of  mere  animalism.  The  bodies  shook  and  squirmed. 
The  faces  were  screwed  up  to  express  an  ecstacy  of 
sensual  delight.  The  little  fingers  twitched  into  im- 
modest gestures. 

Chonkina!  Chonkina!  Hoi! 

Geoffrey  had  never  gazed  on  a  naked  woman  except 
idealised  in  marble  or  on  canvas.  The  secret  of  Venus 
had  been  for  him,  as  for  many  men,  an  inviolate  Mecca 
towards  which  he  worshipped.  Glimpses  he  had  seen, 
visions  of  soft  curves,  mica  glistenings  of  creamy  skin, 
but  never  the  crude  anatomical  fact. 

An  overgrown  embryo  she  seemed,  a  gawkish  ill- 
moulded  thing. 

Woman,  thought  Geoffrey,  should  be  supple  and  pliant, 
with  a  suggestion  of  swiftness  galvanising  the  delicacy  of 
the  lines.  Atalanta  was  his  ideal  woman. 

But  this  creature  had  apparently  no  bones  or  sinews. 
She  looked  like  a  sawdust  dummy.  She  seemed  to  have 
been  poured  into  a  bag  of  brown  tissue.  There  was  no 
waist  line.  The  chest  appeared  to  fit  down  upon  the 
thighs  like  a  lid.  The  legs  hung  from  the  hips  like  trou- 
ser-legs, and  seemed  to  fit  into  the  feet  like  poles  into 
their  sockets.  The  turned-in  toes  were  ridiculous  and 
exasperating.  There  was  no  shaping  of  breasts,  stomach, 
knees  and  ankles.  There  was  nothing  in  this  image 
of  clay  to  show  the  loving  caress  of  the  Creator's  hand. 
It  had  been  modelled  by  a  wretched  bungler  in  a  mo- 
ment of  inattention. 

Yet  it  stood  there,  erect  and  challenging,  this  miser- 
able human  tadpole,  usurping  the  throne  of  Lais  and 
crowned  with  the  worship  of  such  devotees  as  Patterson 
and  Wigram. 

Are  all  women  ugly?  The  query  flashed  through 
Geoffrey's  brain.  Is  the  vision  of  Aphrodite  Anadyomene 
an  artist's  lie?  Then  he  thought  of  Asako.  Stripped  of 
her  gauzy  nightdresses,  was  she  like  this?  A  shame 
on  such  imagining! 


68  KIMONO 

Patterson  was  hugging  a  girl  on  his  knee.  Wigram 
had  caught  hold  of  another.  Geoffrey  said  —  but  no- 
body heard  him,  — 

"It's  getting  too  hot  for  me  here.     I'm  going." 

So  he  went. 

His  little  wife  was  awake,  and  disposed  to  be  tearful. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  she  asked,  "You  said  you 
would  only  be  half  an  hour." 

"I  met  Wigram,"  said  Geoffrey,  "and  I  went  with 
him  to  see  some  geisha  dancing." 

"You  might  have  taken  me.     Was  it  very  pretty?" 

"No,  it  was  very  ugly;  you  would  not  have  cared  for 
it  at  all." 

He  had  a  hot  bath,  before  he  lay  down  by  her  side. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ACROSS  JAPAN 

Momo-shiki  no  Though  the  people  of  the 

Omiya-bito  wa  Great  City 

Okaredo  With  its  hundred  towers 

Kokoro  ni  norite  Be  many, 

Omoyuru  into!  Riding  on  my  heart — 

(Only)   my  beloved  Sister  1 

THE  traveller  in  Japan  is  restricted  to  a  hard-worn  road, 
dictated  to  him  by  Messrs.  Thos.  Cook  and  Son,  and  by 
the  Tourists'  Information  Bureau.  This  via  sacra  is 
marked  by  European-style  hotels  of  varying  quality,  by 
insidious  curio-shops,  and  by  native  guides,  serious  and 
profane,  who  classify  foreigners  under  the  two  headings 
of  Temples  and  Tea-houses.  The  lonely  men-travellers 
are  naturally  supposed  to  have  a  penchant  for  the  spurious 
geisha,  who  haunt  the  native  restaurants;  the  married 
couples  are  taken  to  the  temples,  and  to  those  merchants 
of  antiquities,  who  offer  the  highest  commission  to  the 
guides.  There  is  always  an  air  of  petty  conspiracy  in  the 
wake  of  every  foreigner  who  visits  the  country.  If 
he  is  a  Japan  enthusiast,  he  is  amused  by  the  naive  ways, 
and  accepts  the  conventional  smile  as  the  reflection  of 
the  heart  of  "the  happy,  little  Japs."  If  he  hates  the 
country,  he  takes  it  for  granted  that  extortion  and  vil- 
lainy will  accompany  his  steps. 

Geoffrey  and  Asako  enjoyed  immensely  their  intro- 
duction to  Japan.  The  unpleasant  experiences  of  Naga- 
saki were  soon  forgotten  after  their  arrival  at  Kyoto,  the 
ancient  capital  of  the  Mikado,  where  the  charm  of  old 
Japan  still  lingers.  They  were  happy,  innocent  people, 
devoted  to  each  other,  easily  pleased,  and  having  heaps 
of  money  to  spend.  They  were  amused  with  everything, 
with  the  people,  with  the  houses,  with  the  shops,  with 
being  stared  at,  with  being  cheated,  with  being  dragged 

69 


70  KIMONO 

to  the  ends  of  the  vast  city  only  to  see  flowerless  gardens 
and  temples  in  decay. 

Asako  especially  was  entranced.  The  feel  of  the 
Japanese  silk  and  the  sight  of  bright  colours  and  pretty 
patterns  awoke  in  her  a  kind  of  ancestral  memory,  the 
craving  of  generations  of  Japanese  women.  She  bought 
kimonos  by  the  dozen,  and  spent  hours  trying  them  on 
amid  a  chorus  of  admiring  chambermaids  and  waitresses, 
a  chorus  specially  trained  by  the  hotel  management  in 
the  difficult  art  of  admiring  foreigners'  purchases. 

Then  to  the  curio-shops !  The  antique  shops  of  Kyoto 
give  to  the  simple  foreigner  the  impression  that  he  is 
being  received  in  a  private  home  by  a  Japanese  gentle- 
man of  leisure  whose  hobby  is  collecting.  The  unsus- 
pecting prey  is  welcomed  with  cigarettes  and  specially 
honourable  tea,  the  thick  green  kind  like  pea-soup.  An 
autograph  book  is  produced  in  which  are  written  the 
names  of  rich  and  distinguished  people  who  have  visited 
the  collection.  You  are  asked  to  add  your  own  insignif- 
icant signature.  A  few  glazed  earthenware  pots  appear, 
Tibetan  temple  pottery  of  the  Han  Period.  They  are 
on  their  way  to  the  Winckler  collection  in  New  York,  a 
trifle  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Having  pulverised  the  will-power  of  his  guest,  the 
merchant  of  antiquities  hands  him  over  to  his  myrmidons 
who  conduct  him  round  the  shop — for  it  is  only  a  shop 
after  all.  Taking  accurate  measurement  of  his  purse 
and  tastes,  they  force  him  to  buy  what  pleases  them,  just 
as  a  conjurer  can  force  a  card  upon  his  audience. 

The  Harringtons'  rooms  at  the  Miyako  Hotel  soon 
became  like  an  annex  to  the  show-rooms  in  Messrs. 
Yamanaka's  store.  Brocades  arid  kimonos  were  draped 
over  chairs  and  bedsteads.  Tables  were  crowded  with 
porcelain,  cloisonne  and  statues  of  gods.  Lanterns  hung 
irom  the  roof ;  and  in  a  corner  of  the  room  stood  an 
enormous  T)owl-shaped  bell  as  big  as  a  bath,  resting  on 
a  tripod  of  red  lacquer.  When  struck  with  a  thick  leather 
baton  like  a  drum-stick  it  uttered  a  deep  sob,  a  wonderful, 
round,  perfect  sound,  full  of  the  melancholy  of  the  wind 


ACROSS  JAPAN  71 

and  the  pine-forests,  of  the  austere  dignity  of  a  vanishing 
civilisation,  and  the  loneliness  of  the  Buddhist  Law. 

There  was  a  temple  on  the  hill  behind  the  hotel  whence 
such  a  note  reached  the  visitors  at  dawn  and  again  at 
sunset.  The  spirit  of  everything  lovely  in  the  country 
sang  in  its  tones ;  and  Asako  and  Geoffrey  had  agreed, 
that,  whatever  else  they  might  buy  or  not  buy,  they  must 
take  an  echo  of  that  imprisoned  music  home  with  them 
to  England. 

So  they  bought  the  cyclopean  voice,  engraved  with 
cabalistic  writing,  which  might  be,  as  it  professed  to  be, 
a  temple  bell  of  Yamato  over  five  hundred  years  old, 
or  else  the  last  year's  product  of  an  Osaka  foundry  for 
antique  brass  ware.  Geoffrey  called  it  "Big  Ben." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  these  things?"  he 
asked  his  wife. 

"Oh,  for  our  home  in  London,"  she  answered,  clapping 
her  hands  and  gazing  with  ecstatic  pride  at  all  her 
treasures.  "It  will  be  wonderful.  Oh,  Geoffrey,  Geoffrey, 
you  are  so  good  to  give  all  this  to  me !" 

"But  it  is  your  own  money,  little  sweetheart!" 


Never  did  Asako  seem  further  from  her  parents'  race 
than  during  the  first  weeks  of  her  sojourn  in  her  native 
country.  She  was  so  unconscious  of  her  relationship 
that  she  liked  to  play  at  imitating  native  life,  as  some- 
thing utterly  peculiar  and  absurd.  Meals  in  Japanese 
eating-houses  amused  her  immensely.  The  squatting 
on  bare  floors,  the  exaggerated  obeisance  of  the  waiting- 
girls,  the  queer  food,  the  clumsy  use  of  chop-sticks,  the 
numbness  of  her  feet  after  being  sat  upon  for  half  an 
hour,  all  would  set  her  off  in  peals  of  unchecked  laughter, 
so  as  to  astonish  her  compatriots  who  naturally  enough 
mistook  her  for  one  of  themselves. 

Once,  with  the  aid  of  the  girls  of  the  hotel,  she  arrayed 
herself  in  the  garments  of  a  Japanese  lady  of  position 
with  her  hair  dressed  in  the  shiny  black  helmet-shape, 
and  her  waist  encased  in  the  broad,  tight  obi  or  sash, 


72  KIMONO 

which  after  all  was  no  more  uncomfortable  than  a  corset. 
Thus  attired  she  came  down  to  dinner  one  evening, 
trotting  behind  her  husband  as  a  well-trained  Japanese 
wife  should  do.  In  foreign  dress  she  appeared  petite  and 
exotic,  but  one  would  have  hesitated  to  name  the  land  of 
her  birth.  It  was  a  shock  to  Geoffrey  to  see  her  again 
in  her  native  costume.  In  Europe,  it  had  been  a  dis- 
tinction, but  here,  in  Japan,  it  was  like  a  sudden  fading 
into  the  landscape.  He  had  never  realised  quite  how 
entirely  his  wife  was  one  of  these  people.  The  short 
stature  and  the  shuffling  gait,  the  tiny  delicate  hands, 
the  grooved  slit  of  the  eyelids,  and  the  oval  of  the  face 
were  pure  Japanese.  The  only  incongruous  elements 
were  the  white  ivory  skin  which,  however,  is  a  beauty 
not  unknown  among  home-reared  Japanese  women  also, 
and,  above  all,  the  expression  which  looked  out  of  the 
dancing  eyes  and  the  red  mouth  ripe  for  kisses,  an  ex- 
pression of  freedom,  happiness,  and  natural  high  spirits, 
which  is  not  to  be  seen  in  a  land  where  the  women  are 
hardly  free,  never  natural,  and  seldom  happy.  The  Jap- 
anese woman's  face  develops  a  compressed  look  which 
leaves  the  features  a  mere  mask,  and  acquires  very  often 
a  furtive  glance,  as  of  a  sharp-fanged  animal  half-tamed 
by  fear,  something  weasel-like  or  vixenish. 

Flaunting  her  native  costume,  Asako  came  down  to 
dinner  at  the  Miyako  Hotel,  laughing,  chattering,  and 
imitating  the  mincing  steps  of  her  country-women  and 
their  exaggerated  politeness.  Geoffrey  tried  to  play  his 
part  in  the  little  comedy ;  but  his  good  spirits  were  forced 
and  gradually  silence  fell  between  them,  the  silence  which 
falls  on  masqueraders  in  fancy  dress,  who  have  tried  to 
play  up  to  the  spirit  of  their  costume,  but  whose  imagina- 
tion flags.  Had  Geoffrey  been  able  to  think  a  little  more 
deeply  he  would  have  realized  that  this  play-acting  was 
a  very  visible  sign  of  the  gulf  which  yawned  between  his 
wife  and  the  yellow  women  of  Japan.  She  was  acting  as 
a  white  woman  might  have  done,  certain  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  confusion.  But  Geoffrey  for  the  first  time  felt 
his  wife's  exoticism,  not  from  the  romantic  and  charm- 


ACROSS  JAPAN  73 

ing  side,  but  from  the  ugly,  sinister,  and — horrible  word 
— inferior  side  of  it.  Had  he  married  a  coloured  woman? 
Was  he  a  squaw's  man?  A  sickening  vision  of  chonkina 
at  Nagasaki  rose  before  his  imagination. 

When  dinner  was  over,  and  after  Asako  had  received 
the  congratulations  of  the  other  guests,  she  retired  up- 
stairs to  put  on  her  neglige.  Geoffrey  liked  a  cigar 
after  dinner,  but  Asako  objected  to  the  heavy  aroma 
hanging  about  her  bedroom.  They  therefore  parted  gen- 
erally for  this  brief  half  hour;  and  afterwards  they  would 
read  and  talk  together  in  their  sitting-room.  Like  other 
people,  they  soon  got  into  the  habit  of  going  to  bed  early 
in  a  country  where  there  were  no  theatres  playing  in  a 
comprehensible  tongue,  and  no  supper  restaurants  to  turn 
night  into  day. 

Geoffrey  lit  his  cigar  and  made  his  way  to  the  smok- 
ing-room. Two  elderly  men,  merchants  from  Kobe,  were 
already  sitting  there  over  whiskies  and  sodas,  discussing 
a  mutual  acquaintance. 

"No,  I  don't  see  much  of  him,"  one  of  them,  an  Ameri- 
can, was  saying,  "nobody  does  nowadays.  But  take  my 
word,  when  he  came  out  here  as  a  young  man  he  was 
one  of  the  smartest  young  fellows  in  the  East." 

"Yes,  I  can  quite  believe  you,"  said  the  other,  a  stolid 
Englishman  with  a  briar  pipe,  "he  struck  me  as  an  ex- 
ceptionally well-educated  man." 

"He  was  more  than  that,  I  tell  you.  He  was  a  financial 
genius.  He  was  a  man  with  a  great  future." 

"Poor  fellow !"  said  the  other.  "Well,  he  has  only  got 
himself  to  thank." 

Geoffrey  was  not  an  eavesdropper  by  nature,  but  he 
found  himself  getting  interested  in  the  fate  of  this 
anonymous  failure,  and  wondered  if  he  was  going  to  hear 
the  cause  of  the  man's  downfall. 

"When  these  Japanese  women  get  hold  of  a  man,"  the 
American  went  on,  "they  seem  to  drain  the  brightness 
out  of  him.  Why,  you  have  only  got  to  stroll  around  to 
the  Kobe  Club  and  look  at  the  faces.  You  can  tell  the 
ones  that  have  Japanese  wives  or  housekeepers  right 


n  KIMONO 

away.  Something  seems  to  have  gone  right  out  of  their 
expression." 

"It's  worry,"  said  the  Englishman.  "A  fellow  marries 
a  Japanese  girl,  and  he  finds  he  has  to  keep  all  her  lazy 
relatives  as  well ;  and  then  a  crowd  of  half-caste  brats 
come  along,  and  he  ^doesn't  know  whether  they  are  his 
own  or  not." 

"It  is  more  than  that,"  was  the  emphatic  answer. 
"Men  with  white  wives  have  worry  enough;  and  a  man 
can  go  gay  in  the  tea-houses,  and  none  the  worse.  But 
when  once  they  marry  them  it  is  like  signing  a  bond  with 
the  devil.  That  man's  damned." 

Geoffrey  rose  and  left  the  room.  He  thought  <on  the 
whole  it  was  better  to  withdraw  than  to  hit  that  harsh- 
voiced  Yankee  hard  in  the  eye.  He  feltithat  his  wife  had 
been  insulted.  But  the  speaker  could  not  have  known 
by  whom  he  had  been  overheard.  He  had  merely  ex- 
pressed an  opinion  which,  as  a  sudden  instinct  told  Geof- 
frey, must  be  generally  prevalent  among  the  white  peo- 
ple living  in  this  yellow  country.  Now  that  he  came  to 
think  of  it,  he  remembered  curious  glances  cast  at  him 
and  Asako  by  foreigners  and  also,  strange  to  say,  by 
Japanese,  glances  half  contemptuous.  Had  he  acquired  it 
already,  that  expression  which  marked  the  faces  of  the 
unfortunates  at  the  Kobe  Club?  He  remembered  also 
tactless  remarks  on  board  ship,  such  as,  "Mrs.  Barrington 
has  lived  all •  her  life  in  England;  of  course,  that  makes 
all  the  difference." 

Geoffrey  looked  at  his  reflection  in  the  long  mirror  in 
the  hall.  There  were  no  signs  as  yet  of  premature 
damnation  on  the  honest,  healthy  British  face.  There 
were  signs,  perhaps,  of  ripened  thought  and  experience, 
of  less  superficial  appreciation.  The  eyes  seemed  to  have 
withdrawn  deeper  into  their  sockets,  like  the  figurines 
in  toy  barometers  when  they  feel  wet  weather  coming. 

He  was  beginning  to  appreciate  the  force  of  the  advice 
which  had  urged  him  to  beware  of  Japan.  Here,  in  the 
hotbed  of  race  prejudice,  evil  spirits  were  abroad.  It 
was  so  different  in  broad-hearted  tolerant  London. 


ACROSS  JAPAN  73 

Asako  was  charming  and  rich.  She  was  received  every- 
where. To  marry  her  was  no  more  strange  than  to 
marry  a  French  girl  or  a  Russian.  They  could  have 
lived  peaceably  in  Europe ;  and  her  distant  fatherland 
would  have  added  a  pathetic  charm  to  her  personality. 
But  here  in  Japan,  where  between  the  handful  of  whites 
and  the  myriads  of  yellow  men  stretches  a  No  Man's 
Land,  serrated  and  desolate,  marked  with  bloody  fights, 
with  suspicions  and  treacheries,  Asako's  position  as  the 
wife  of  a  white  man  and  Geoffrey's  position  as  the  hus- 
band of  a  yellow  wife  were  entirely  different.  The 
stranger's  phrases  had  summed  up  the  situation.  They 
were  no  good,  these  white  men  who  had  pawned  their 
lives  to  yellow  girls.  They  were  the  failures,  the  rates. 
Geoffrey  had  heard  of  promising  young  officers  in  India 
who  had  married  native  women  and  who  had  had  to  leave 
the  service.  He  had  done  the  same.  Better  go  gay  in  the 
tea-houses  with  Wigram.  He  was  the  husband  of  a 
coloured  woman. 

And  then  the  crowd  of  half-caste  brats?  In  England 
one  hardly  ever  thinks  of  the  progeny  of  mixed  races. 
That  bitter  word  "half-caste"  is  a  distant  echo  of  sen- 
sational novels.  Geoffrey  had  not  as  yet  noticed  the  pale 
handsome  children  of  Eurasia,  Nature's  latest  and  most 
half-hearted  experiment,  whose  seed,  they  say,  is  lost  in 
the  third  generation.  But  he  had  heard  the  tone  of  scorn 
which  flung  out  the  term ;  and  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  his  own  children  would  be  half-castes. 

He  was  walking  on  the  garden  terrace  overlooking  the 
starry  city.  He  was  thinking  with  an  intensity  un- 
familiar to  him  and  terrifying,  like  a  machine  which 
is  developing  its  fullest  power,  and  is  shaking  a  frame- 
work unused  to  such  a  strain.  He  wanted  a  friend's 
presence,  a  desultory  chat  with  an  old  pal  about  people 
and  things  which  they  shared  in  common.  Thank  God, 
Reggie  Forsyth  was  in  Tokyo.  He  would  leave  to- 
morrow. He  must  see  Reggie,  laugh  at  his  queer  clever 
talk  again,  relax  himself,  and  feel  sane. 

He  was  nervous  of  meeting  his  wife,  lest  her  instinct 


76  KIMONO 

might  guess  his  thoughts.  Yet  he  must  not  leave  her 
any  longer  or  his  absence  would  make  her  anxious. 
Not  that  his  love  for  Asako  had  been  damaged ;  but  he 
felt  that  they  were  traveling  along  a  narrow  path  over 
a  bottomless  gulf  in  an  unexplored  country. 

He  returned  to  the  rooms  and  found  her  lying  discon- 
solate on  a  sofa,  wrapped  in  a  flimsy  champagne-coloured 
dressing-gown,  one  of  the  spoils  of  Paris.  Her  hair  had 
been  rapidly  combed  out  of  its  formal  native  arrange- 
ment. It  looked  draggled  and  hard  as  though  she  had 
been  bathing.  Titine,  the  French  maid,  was  removing 
the  rejected  debris  of  kimono  and  sash. 

"Sweetheart,  you've  been  crying,"  said  Geoffrey,  kiss- 
ing her. 

"You  didn't  like  me  as  a  Jap,  and  you've  been  thinking 
terrible  things  about  me.  Look  at  me,  and  tell  me  what 
you  have  been  thinking." 

"Little  Yum  Yum  talks  great  nonsense  sometimes.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  thinking  of  going  on  to  Tokyo 
to-morrow.  I  think  we've  seen  about  all  there  is  to  be 
seen  here,  don't  you?" 

"Geoffrey,  you  want  to  see  Reggie  Forsyth.  You're 
getting  bored  and  homesick  already." 

"No,  I'm  not.  I  think  it  is  a  ripping  country ;  in  fact, 
I  want  to  see  more  of  it.  What  I  am  wondering  is 
whether  we  should  take  Tanaka." 


This  made  Asako  laugh.  Any  mention  of  Tanaka's 
name  acted  as  a  talisman  of  mirth.  Tanaka  was  the 
Japanese  guide  who  had  fixed  himself  on  to  their  com- 
pany remora-like,  with  a  fine  flair  for  docile  and  profit- 
able travelers. 

He  was  a  very  small  man,  small  even  for  a  Japanese, 
but  plump  withal.  His  back  view  looked  like  that  of  a 
little  boy,  an  illusion  accentuated  by  the  shortness  of  his 
coat  and  his  small  straw  boater  with  its  colored  ribbon. 
Even  when  he  turned  the  illusion  was  not  quite  dispelled ; 
for  his  was  a  round,  ruddy,  chubby  face  with  dimples,  a 


ACROSS  JAPAN  77 

face  with  big  cheeks  ripe  for  smacking,  and  little  sunken 
pig-like  eyes. 

He  had  stalked  the  Barringtons  during  their  first  ex- 
cursion on  foot  through  the  ancient  city,  knowing  that 
sooner  or  later  they  would  lose  their  way.  When  the 
opportunity  offered  itself  and  he  saw  them  gazing 
vaguely  round  at  cross-roads,  he  bore  down  upon  them, 
raising  his  hat  and  saying: 

"Can  I  assist  you,  sir?" 

"Yes ;  would  you  kindly  tell  me  the  way  to  the  Miyako 
Hotel?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"I  am  myself  en  route"  answered  Tanaka.  "Indeed 
we  meet  very  a  propos" 

On  the  way  he  had  discoursed  about  all  there  was 
to  be  seen  in  Kyoto.  Only,  visitors  must  know  their 
way  about,  or  must  have  the  service  of  an  experienced 
guide  who  was  au  fait  and  who  knew  the  "open  sesames." 
He  pronounced  this  phrase  "open  sessums,"  and  it  was 
not  until  late  that  night  that  its  meaning  dawned  upon 
Geoffrey. 

Tanaka  had  a  rich  collection  of  foreign  and  idiomatic 
phrases,  which  he  must  have  learned  by  heart  from  a 
book  and  with  which  he  adorned  his  conversation. 

On  his  own  initiative  he  had  appeared  next  morning 
to  conduct  the  two  visitors  to  the  Emperor's  palace, 
which  he  gave  them  to  understand  was  open  for  that 
day  only,  and  as  a  special  privilege  due  to  Tanaka's  influ- 
ence. While  expatiating  on  the  wonders  to  be  seen,  he 
brushed  Geoffrey's  clothes  and  arranged  them  with  the 
care  of  a  trained  valet.  In  the  evening,  when  they  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  and  Asako  complained  of  pains  in  her 
shoulder,  Tanaka  showed  himself  to  be  an  adept  at 
massage. 

Next  morning  he  was  again  at  his  post ;  and  Geoffrey 
realized  that  another  member  had  been  added  to  his 
household.  He  acted  as  their  cicerone  or  "siseroan,"  as 
he  pronounced  it,  to  temple  treasuries  and  old  palace 
gardens,  to  curio-shops  and  to  little  native  eating-houses. 
The  Barringtons  submitted,  not  because  they  liked 


78  KIMONO 

Tanaka,  but  because  they  were  good-natured,  and  rather 
lost  in  this  new  country.  Besides,  Tanaka  clung  like  a 
leech  and  was  useful  in  many  ways. 

Only  on  Sunday  morning  it  was  the  hotel  boy  who 
brought  their  early  morning  tea.  Tanaka  was  absent. 
When  he  made  his  appearance  he  wore  a  grave  expres- 
sion which  hardly  suited  his  round  face ;  and  he  carried 
a  large  black  prayer-book.  He  explained  that  he  had 
been  to  church.  He  was  a  Christian,  Greek  Orthodox. 
At  least  so  he  said,  but  afterwards  Geoffrey  was  inclined 
to  think  that  this  was  only  one  of  his  mystifications  to 
gain  the  sympathy  of  his  victims  and  to  create  a  bond 
between  him  and  them. 

His  method  was  one  of  observation,  imitation  and  con- 
cealed interrogation.  The  long  visits  to  the  Harringtons' 
rooms,  the  time  spent  in  clothes-brushing  and  in  massage, 
were  so  much  opportunity  gained  for  inspecting  the  room 
and  its  inhabitants,  for  gauging  their  habits  and  their 
income,  and  for  scheming  out  how  to  derive  the  greatest 
possible  advantage  for  himself. 

The  first  results  of  this  process  were  almost  uncon- 
scious. The  wide  collar,  in  which  his  face  had  wobbled 
Micawber-like,  disappeared;  and  a  small  double  collar, 
like  the  kind  Geoffrey  wore,  took  its  place.  The  garish 
neck-tie  and  hatband  were  replaced  by  discreet  black. 
He  acquired  the  attitudes  and  gestures  of  his  employer 
in  a  few  days. 

As  for  the  cross-examination,  it  took  place  in  the  even- 
ing, when  Geoffrey  was  tired,  and  Tanaka  was  taking  off 
his  boots. 

"Previous  to  the  fiancee,"  Tanaka  began,  "did  Lady 
Barrington  live  long  time  in  Japan?" 

He  was  lavish  with  titles,  considering  that  money  and 
nobility  in  such  people  must  be  inseparable ;  besides,  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  that  the  use  of  such  honorifics 
never  came  amiss. 

"No ;  she  left  when  she  was  quite  a  little  baby." 

"Ladyship  has  Japanese  name?" 

"Asako  Fujinami.    Do  you  know  the  name,  Tanaka?" 


ACROSS  JAPAN  79 

The  Japanese  set  his  head  on  one  side  to  indicate  an 
attitude  of  reflection. 

"Tokyo?"  he  suggested. 

"Yes,  from  Tokyo." 

"Does  Lordship  pay  his  devoir  to  relatives  of  Lady- 
ship?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  when  we  go  to  Tokyo." 

"Ladyship's  relatives  have  noble  residence?"  asked 
Tanaka ;  it  was  his  way  of  inquiring  if  they  were  rich. 

"I  really  don't  know  at  all,"  answered  Geoffrey. 

"Then  I  will  detect  for  Lordship.  It  will  be  better. 
A  man  can  do  great  foolishness  if  he  does  not  detect." 

After  this  Geoffrey  discouraged  Tanaka.  But  Asako 
thought  him  a  huge  joke.  He  made  himself  very  useful 
and  agreeable,  fetching  and  carrying  for  her,  and  amus- 
ing her  with  his  wonderful  English.  He  almost  suc- 
ceeded in  dislodging  Titine  from  her  cares  for  her  mis- 
tress's person.  Geoffrey  had  once  objected,  on  being  ex- 
pelled from  his  wife's  bedroom  during  a  change  of  rai- 
ment: 

"But  Tanaka  was  there.  You  don't  mind  him  seeing 
you  apparently." 

Asako  had  burst  out  laughing. 

"Oh,  he  isn't  a  man.  He  isn't  real  at  all.  He  says 
that  I  am  like  a  flower,  and  that  I  am  very  beautiful  in 
'deshabeel.'" 

"That  sounds  real  enough,"  grunted  Geoffrey,  "and 
very  like  a  man." 

Perhaps,  innocent  as  she  was,  Asako  enjoyed  playing 
off  Tanaka  against  her  husband,  just  as  it  certainly 
amused  her  to  watch  the  jealousy  between  Titine  and 
the  Japanese.  It  gave  her  a  pleasant  sense  of  power  to 
see  her  big  husband  look  so  indignant. 

"How  old  do  you  think  Tanaka  is?"  he  asked  her  one 
day. 

"Oh,  about  eighteen  or  nineteen,"  she  answered.  She 
was  not  yet  used  to  the  deceptiveness  of  Japanese  ap- 
pearances. 

"He  does  not  look  more  sometimes,"  said  her  hus- 


80  KIMONO 

band ;  "but  he  has  the  ways  and  the  experience  of  a  very 
old  hand.  I  wouldn't  mind  betting  you  that  he  is  thirty." 

"All  right,"  said  Asako,  "give  me  the  jade  Buddha  if 
you  are  wrong." 

"And  what  will  you  give  me  if  I  am  right?"  said 
Geoffrey. 

"Kisses,"  replied  his  wife. 

Geoffrey  went  out  to  look  for  Tanaka.  In  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  he  came  back,  triumphant. 

"My  kisses,  sweetheart,"  he  demanded. 

"Wait,"  said  Asako;  "how  old  is  he?" 

"I  went  out  of  the  front  door  and  there  was  Master 
Tanaka,  telling  the  rickshaw-men  the  latest  gossip  about 
us.  I  said  to  him,  'Tanaka,  are  you  married?'  'Yes, 
Lordship/  he  answered,  'I  am  widower.'  'Any  children?' 
I  asked  again.  'I  have  two  progenies,'  he  said ;  'they  are 
soldiers  of  His  Majesty  the  Emperor.'  'Why,  how  old 
are  you?'  I  asked.  'Forty-three  years,'  he  answered. 
'You  are  very  well  preserved  for  a  man  of  your  age,' 
I  said,  and  I  have  come  back  for  my  kisses." 

After  this  monstrous  deception  Geoffrey  had  declared 
that  he  would  dismiss  Tanaka. 

"A  man  who  goes  about  like  that,"  he  said,  "is  a  living 
lie." 


Two  days  later,  early  in  the  morning,  they  left  Kyoto 
by  the  great  metal  high  road  of  Japan,  which  has  re- 
placed the  famous  way  known  as  the  Tokaido,  sacred  in 
history,  legend  and  art.  Every  stone  has  its  message  for 
Japanese  eyes,  every  tree  its  association  with  poetry  or 
romance.  Even  among  Western  connoisseurs  of  Japan- 
ese wood  engraving,  its  fifty-two  resting  places  are  as 
familiar  as  the  Stations  of  the  Cross.  Such  is  the 
Takaido,  the  road  between  the  two  capitals  of  Kyoto  and 
Tokyo,  still  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  the  Emperor's  ox- 
drawn  wagons,  the  Shoguns'  lacquered  palanquins,  by  feu- 
dal warriors  in  their  death-like  armour,  and  by  the  swing- 
ing strides  of  the  samurai. 


ACROSS  JAPAN  81 

"Look,  look,  Fujiyama !" 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  observation-car,  where 
Geoffrey  and  his  wife  were  watching  the  unfolding  of 
their  new  country.  The  sea  was  away  to  the  right  be- 
yond the  tea-fields  and  the  pine-woods.  To  the  left  was 
the  base  of  a  mountain.  Its  summit  was  wrapped  in 
cloud.  From  the  fragment  visible,  it  was  possible  to 
appreciate  the  architecture  of  the  whole — ex  pede  Hercu- 
lem.  It  took  the  train  quite  one  hour  to  travel  over  that 
arc  of  the  circuit  of  Fuji,  which  it  must  pass  on  its  way 
to  Tokyo.  During  this  time,  the  curtained  presence  of 
the  great  mountain  dominated  the  landscape.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  lead  up  to  that  mantle  of  cloud.  The 
terraced  rice  fields  rose  towards  it,  the  trees  slanted 
towards  it,  the  moorland  seemed  to  be  pulled  upwards, 
and  the  skin  of  the  earth  was  stretched  taut  over  some 
giant  limb  which  had  pushed  itself  up  from  below,  the 
calm  sea  was  waiting  for  its  reflection,  and  even  the 
microscopic  train  seemed  to  swing  in  its  orbit  round  the 
mountain  like  an  unwilling  satellite. 

"It's  a  pity  we  can't  see  it,"  said  Geoffrey. 

"Yes ;  it's  the  only  big  thing  in  the  whole  darned  coun- 
try," said  a  saturnine  American,  sitting  opposite ;  "and 
then,  when  you  get  on  to  it,  it's  just  a  heap  of  cinders." 

Asako  was  not  worrying  about  the  landscape.  Her 
thoughts  were  directed  to  a  family  of  well-to-do  Jap- 
anese, first-class  passengers,  who  had  settled  in  the  ob- 
servation car  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  had  then  with- 
drawn. There  was  a  father,  his  wife  and  two  daughters, 
wax-like  figures  who  did  not  utter  a  word  but  glided 
shadow-like  in  and  out  of  the  compartment.  Were  they 
relations  of  hers? 

Then,  when  she  and  her  husband  passed  down  the  cor- 
ridor train  to  lunch,  and  through  the  swarming  second- 
class  carriages,  she  wondered  once  more,  as  she  saw 
male  Japan  sprawling  its  length  over  the  seats  in  the 
ugliest  attitudes  of  repose,  and  female  Japan  squatting 
monkey-like  and  cleaning  ears  and  nostrils  with  scraps  of 
paper  or  wiping  stolid  babies.  The  carriages  swarmed 


82  KIMONO 

with  children,  with  luggage  and  litter.  The  floors  were  a 
mess  of  spilled  tea,  broken  earthenware  cups  and  splin- 
tered wooden  boxes.  Cheap  baggage  was  piled  up 
everywhere,  with  wicker  baskets,  paper  parcels,  bundles 
of  drab-coloured  wraps,  and  cases  of  imitation  leather. 
Among  this  debris  children  were  playing  unchecked, 
smearing  their  faces  with  rice  cakes,  and  squashing  the 
flies  on  the  window  pane. 

Were  any  of  these  her  relatives?  Asako  shuddered. 
How  much  did  she  actually  know  about  these  far-away 
cousins?  She  could  just  remember  her  father.  She  could 
recall  great  brown  shining  eyes,  and  a  thin  face  wasted 
by  the  consumption  which  killed  him,  and  a  tenderness 
of  voice  and  manner  quite  apart  from  anything  which 
she  had  ever  experienced  since.  This  soon  came  to  an 
end.  After  that  she  had  known  only  the  conscientiously 
chilly  care  of  the  Muratas.  They  had  told  her  that  her 
mother  had  died  when  she  was  born,  and  that  her  father 
was  so  unhappy  that  he  had  left  Japan  forever.  Her 
father  was  a  very  clever  man.  He  had  read  all  the  Eng- 
lish and  French  and  German  books.  He  had  left  special 
word  when  he  was  dying  that  Asako  was  not  to  go 
back  to  Japan,  that  Japanese  men  were  bad  to  women, 
that  she  was  to  be  brought  up  among  French  girls  and 
was  to  marry  a  European  or  an  American.  But  the 
Muratas  could  not  tell  her  any  intimate  details  about 
her  father,  whom  they  had  not  known  very  well.  Again, 
although  they  were  aware  that  she  had  rich  cousins  liv- 
ing in  Tokyo,  they  did  not  know  them  personally  and 
could  tell  her  nothing. 

Her  father  had  left  no  papers,  only  his  photograph, 
the  picture  of  a  delicate,  good-looking,  sad-faced  man  in 
black  cloak  and  kimono,  and  a  little  French  book  called 
Pensees  de  Pascal,  at  the  end  of  which  was  written  the 
address  of  Mr.  Ito,  the  lawyer  in  Tokyo  through  whom 
the  dividends  were  paid,  and  that  of  "my  cousin  Fujinami 
Gentaro." 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  EMBASSY 

Tsuyu  no  yo  no  While  this  dewdrop  world 

Tsuyu  no  yo  nagara  Is  but  a  dewdrop  worldt 

Sari  nagara!  Yet — all  the  same! — 

THE  fabric  of  our  lives  is  like  a  piece  of  knitting,  ter- 
ribly botched  and  bungled  in  most  cases.  There  are 
stitches  which  are  dropped,  sometimes  to  be  swallowed 
up  and  forgotten  in  the  superstructure,  sometimes  to  be 
picked  up  again  after  a  lapse  of  years.  These  stitches 
are  old  friendships. 

The  first  stitch  from  Geoffrey's  bachelor  days  to  be 
worked  back  into  the  scheme  of  his  married  life  was  his 
friendship  for  Reggie  Forsyth,  who  had  been  best  man 
at  his  wedding  and  who  had  since  then  been  appointed 
Secretary  to  the  Embassy  at  Tokyo. 

Reggie  had  received  a  telegram  saying  that  Geoffrey 
was  coming.  He  was  very  pleased.  He  had  reached 
that  stage  in  the  progress  of  exile  where  one  is  inordi- 
nately happy  to  see  any  old  friend.  In  fact,  he  was  be- 
ginning to  be  "fed  up"  with  Japan,  with  its  very  limited 
distractions,  and  with  the  monotony  of  his  diplomatic 
colleagues. 

Instead  of  going  to  the  tennis  court,  which  was  his 
usual  afternoon  occupation,  he  had  spent  the  time  in 
arranging  his  rooms,  shifting  the  furniture,  rehanging 
the  pictures,  paying  especial  care  to  the  disposition  of 
his  Oriental  curios,  his  recent  purchases,  his  last  enthusi- 
asms in  this  land  of  languor.  Reggie  collected  Buddhas, 
Chinese  snuff-bottles  and  lacquered  medicine  cases — 
called  inro  in  Japanese. 

"Caviare  to  the  general!"  murmured  Reggie,  as  he 
gloated  over  a  chaste  design  of  fishes  in  mother-of-pearl, 
a  pseudo-Korin.  "Poor  old  Geoffrey!  He's  only  a  bar- 

83 


84  KIMONO 

barian;  but  perhaps  she  will  be  interested.  Here,  To!" 
he  called  out  to  an  impassive  Japanese  man-servant, 
"have  the  flowers  come  yet,  and  the  little  trees?" 

To  produced  from  the  back  regions  of  the  house  a 
quantity  of  dwarf  trees,  planted  as  miniature  landscapes 
in  shallow  porcelain  dishes,  and  big  fronds  of  budding 
cherry  blossom. 

Reggie  arranged  the  blossom  in  a  triumphal  arch  over 
the  corner  table,  where  stood  the  silent  company  of  the 
Buddhas.  From  among  the  trees  he  chose  his  favourite, 
a  kind  of  dwarf  cedar,  to  place  between  the  window, 
opening  on  to  a  sunny  veranda,  and  an  old  gold  screen, 
across  whose  tender  glory  wound  the  variegated  comic- 
ality of  an  Emperor's  traveling  procession,  painted  by  a 
Kano  artist  of  three  centuries  ago. 

He  removed  the  books  which  were  lying  about  the 
room — grim  Japanese  grammars,  and  forbidding  works 
on  International  Law ;  and  in  their  place  he  left  volumes 
of  poetry  and  memoirs,  and  English  picture-papers 
strewn  about  in  artistic  disorder.  Then  he  gave  the  sil- 
ver frames  of  his  photographs  to  To  to  be  polished,  the 
photographs  of  fair  women  signed  with  Christian  names, 
of  diplomats  in  grand  uniforms,  and  of  handsome  for- 
eigners. 

Having  reduced  the  serious  atmosphere  of  his  study 
so  as  to  give  an  impression  of  amiable  indolence,  Reggie 
Forsyth  lit  a  cigarette  and  strolled  out  into  the  garden, 
amused  at  his  own  impatience.  In  London  he  would 
never  have  bestirred  himself  for  old  Geoffrey  Barring- 
ton,  who  was  only  a  Philistine,  after  all,  with  no  sense 
of  the  inwardness  of  things. 

Reggie  was  a  slim  and  graceful  young  man,  with  thin 
fair  hair  brushed  flat  back  from  his  forehead.  A  certain 
projection  of  bones  under  the  face  gave  him  an  almost 
haggard  look;  and  his  dancing  blue  eyes  seemed  to  be 
never  still.  He  wore  a  suit  of  navy  serge  fitting  close 
to  his  figure,  black  tie,  and  grey  spats.  In  fact,  he  was 
as  immaculate  as  a  young  diplomat  should  always  be. 

Outside  his  broad  veranda  was  a  gravel  path,  and  be- 


THE  EMBASSY  85 

yond  that  a  Japanese  garden,  the  hobby  of  one  of  his  pre- 
decessors, a  miniature  domain  of  hillocks  and  shrubs, 
with  the  inevitable  pebbly  water  course,  in  which  a 
bronze  crane  was  perpetually  fishing.  Over  the  red- 
brick wall  which  encircles  the  Embassy  compound  the 
reddish  buds  of  a  cherry  avenue  were  bursting  in  white 
stars. 

The  compound  of  the  Embassy  is  a  fragment  of 
British  soil.  The  British  flag  floats  over  it ;  and  the 
Japanese  authorities  have  no  power  within  its  walls.  Its 
large  population  of  Japanese  servants,  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  in  all,  are  free  from  the  burden  of  Japanese 
taxes;  and,  since  the  police  may  not  enter,  gambling, 
forbidden  throughout  the  Empire,  flourishes  there ;  and 
the  rambling  servants'  quarters  behind  the  Ambassador's 
house  are  the  Monte  Carlo  of  the  Tokyo  betto  (coach- 
man) and  kuriimaya  (rickshaw  runner).  However,  since 
the  alarming  discovery  that  a  professional  burglar  had, 
Diogenes-like,  been  occupying  an  old  tub  in  a  corner  of 
the  wide  grounds,  a  policeman  has  been  allowed  to  patrol 
the  garden ;  but  he  has  to  drop  that  omnipotent  swagger 
which  marks  his  presence  outside  the  walls. 

Except  for  Reggie  Forsyth's  exotic  shrubbery,  there 
is  nothing  Japanese  within  the  solid  red  walls.  The  Em- 
bassy itself  is  the  house  of  a  prosperous  city  gentleman 
and  might  be  transplanted  to  Bromley  or  Wimbledon. 
The  smaller  houses  of  the  secretaries  and  the  interpreters 
also  wear  a  smug,  suburban  appearance,  with  their  red 
brick  and  their  black-and-white  gabling.  Only  the  broad 
verandas  betray  the  intrusion  of  a  warmer  sun  than  ours. 

The  lawns  were  laid  out  as  a  miniature  golf-links,  the 
thick  masses  of  Japanese  shrubs  forming  deadly  bunkers, 
and  Reggie  was  trying  some  mashie  shots  when  one  of 
the  rare  Tokyo  taxi-cabs,  carrying  Geoffrey  Barrington 
inside  it,  came  slowly  round  a  corner  of  the  drive,  as 
though  it  were  feeling  its  way  for  its  destination  among 
such  a  cluster  of  houses. 

Geoffrey  was  alone. 

"Hello,  old  chap !"  cried  Reggie,  running  up  and  shak- 


86  KIMONO 

ing  his  friend's  big  paw  in  his  small  nervous  grip,  "I'm 
so  awfully  glad  to  see  you;  but  where's  Mrs.  Barring- 
ton?" 

Geoffrey  had  not  brought  his  wife.  He  explained  that 
they  had  been  to  pay  their  first  call  on  Japanese  relations, 
and  that  they  had  been  honourably  out ;  but  even  so  the 
strain  had  been  a  severe  one,  and  Asako  had  retired  to 
rest  at  the  hotel. 

"But  why  not  come  and  stay  here  with  me?"  suggested 
Reggie.  "I  have  got  plenty  of  spare  rooms ;  and  there 
is  such  a  gulf  fixed  between  people  who  inhabit  hotels 
and  people  with  houses  of  their  own.  They  see  life  from 
an  entirely  different  point  of  view;  their  spirits  hardly 
ever  meet." 

"Have  you  room  for  eight  large  boxes  of  dresses  and 
kimonos,  several  cases  of  curios,  a  French  maid,  a  Jap- 
anese guide,  two  Japanese  dogs  and  a  monkey  from 
Singapore?" 

Reggie  whistled. 

"No  really,  is  it  as  bad  as  all  that?  I  was  thinking 
that  marriage  meant  just  one  extra  person.  It  would 
have  been  fun  having  you  both  here,  and  this  is  the  only 
place  in  Tokyo  fit  to  live  in." 

"It  looks  a  comfortable  little  place,"  agreed  Geoffrey. 
They  had  reached  the  secretary's  house,  and  the  new- 
comer was  admiring  its  artistic  arrangement. 

"Just  like  your  rooms  in  London!" 

Reggie  prided  himself  on  the  exclusively  oriental  char- 
acter of  his  habitation,  and  its  distinction  from  any  other 
dwelling  place  which  he  had  ever  possessed.  But  then 
Geoffrey  was  only  a  Philistine,  after  all. 

"I  suppose  it's  the  photographs  which  look  like  old 
times,"  Geoffrey  went  on.  "How's  little  Veronique?" 

"Veronica  married  an  Argentine  beef  magnate,  a  Ger- 
man J^w,  the  nastiest  person  I  have  ever  avoided  meet- 
ing."' 

"Poor  old  Reggie !  Was  that  why  you  came  to  Japan?" 

"Partly ;  and  partly  because  I  had  a  chief  in  the  For- 
eign Office  who  dared  to  say  that  I  was  lacking  in  prac- 


THE  EMBASSY  87 

tical  experience  of  diplomacy.  He  sent  me  to  this  comic 
country  to  find  it." 

"And  you  have  found  it  right  enough,"  said  Geoffrey, 
inspecting  a  photograph  of  a  Japanese  girl  in  her  dark 
silk  kimono  with  a  dainty  flower  pattern  round  the  skirts 
and  at  the  fall  of  the  long  sleeves.  She  was  not  unlike 
Asako;  only  there  was  a  fraction  of  an  inch  more  of 
bridge  to  her  nose,  and  in  that  fraction  lay  the  secret 
of  her  birth. 

"That  is  my  latest  inspiration,"  said  Reggie.    "Listen !" 

He  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  played  a  plaintive  little 
air,  small  and  sweet  and  shivering. 

"Japonaiserie  d'hiver,"  he  explained. 

Then  he  changed  the  burden  of  his  song  into  a  melody 
rapid  and  winding,  with  curious  tricklings  among  the 
bass  notes. 

"Lamia,"  said  Reggie,  "or  Lilith." 

"There's  no  tune  in  that  last  one ;  you  can't  whistle  it," 
said  Geoffrey,  who  exaggerated  his  Philistinism  to  throw 
Reggie's  artistic  nature  into  stronger  relief.  "But  what 
has  that  got  to  do  with  the  lady?" 

"Her  name  is  Smith,"  said  Reggie.  "I  know  it  is  almost 
impossible  and  terribly  sad;  but  her  other  name  is  Yae. 
Rather  wild  and  savage — isn't  it?  Like  the  cry  of  a 
bird  in  the  night-time,  or  of  a  cannibal  tribe  on  the 
warpath." 

"And  is  this  your  oriental  version  of  Veronique?'? 
asked  his  friend. 

"No,"  said  Reggie,  "it  is  a  different  chapter  of  expe- 
rience altogether.  Perhaps  old  Hardwick  was  right.  I 
still  have  much  to  learn,  thank  God.  Veronique  was  per- 
sonal ;  Yae  is  symbolic.  She  is  my  model,  just  like  a 
painter's  model,  only  more  platonic.  She  is  the  East 
to  me ;  for  I  cannot  understand  the  East  pure  and  undi- 
luted. She  is  a  country-woman  of  mine  on  her  father's 
side,  and  therefore  easier  to  understand.  Impersonality 
and  fatalism,  the  Eastern  Proteus,  in  the  grip  of  self- 
insistence  and  idealism,  the  British  Hercules.  A  but- 
terfly body  with  this  cosmic  war  shaking  it  inces- 


88  KIMONO 

santly.  Poor  child !  no  wonder  she  seems  always  tired." 
"She  is  a  half-caste?"  asked  Geoffrey. 
"Bad  word,  bad  word.  She  isn't  half-anything ;  and 
caste  suggests  India  and  suttees.  She  is  a  Eurasian,  a 
denizen  of  a  dream  country  which  has  a  melodious  name 
and  no  geographical  existence.  Have  you  ever  heard 
anybody  ask  where  Eurasia  was?  I  have.  A  traveling 
Member  of  Parliament's  wife  at  the  Embassy  here  only 
a  few  months  ago.  I  said  that  it  was  a  large  undiscov- 
ered country  lying  between  the  Equator  and  Tierra  del 
Fuego.  She  seemed  quite  satisfied,  and  wondered 
whether  it  was  very  hot  there ;  she  remembered  having 
heard  a  missionary  once  complain  that  the  Eurasians 
wore  so  very  few  clothes !  But  to  return  to  Yae,  you 
must  meet  her.  This  evening?  No?  To-morrow  then. 
You  will  like  her  because,  she  looks  something  like 
Asako;  and  she  will  adore  you  because  you  are  utterly 
unlike  me.  She  comes  here  to  inspire  me  once  or  twice 
a  week.  She  says  she  likes  me  because  everything  in 
my  house  smells  so  sweet.  That  is  the  beginning  of 
love,  I  sometimes  think.  Love  enters  the  soul  through 
the  nostrils.  If  you  doubt  me,  observe  the  animals.  But 
foreign  houses  in  Japan  are  haunted  by  a  smell  of  dust 
and  mildew.  You  cannot  love  in  them.  She  likes  to  lie 
on  my  sofa,  and  smoke  cigarettes,  and  do  nothing,  and 
listen  to  my  playing  tunes  about  her." 

"You  are  very  impressionable,"  said  his  friend.  "If  it 
were  anybody  else  I  should  say  you  were  in  love  with 
this  girl." 

"I  am  still  the  same,  Geoffrey ;  always  in  love — and 
never." 

"But  what  about  the  other  people  here?"  Barrington 
asked. 

"There  are  none,  none  who  count.  I  am  not  impres- 
sionable. I  am  just  short-sighted.  I  have  to  focus  my 
weak  vision  on  one  person  and  neglect  the  rest." 

A  rickshaw  was  waiting  to  take  Geoffrey  back  to  the 
hotel.  Under  the  saffron  light  of  an  uncanny  sunset, 


THE  EMBASSY  89' 

which  barred  the  western  heavens  with  three  broad 
streaks  of  orange  and  inky-blue  like  a  gypsy  girl's  ker- 
chief, the  odd  little  vehicle  rolled  down  the  hill  ;of 
Miyakezaka  which  overhangs  the  moat  of  the  Imperial 
Palace. 

The  latent  soul  of  Tokyo,  the  mystery  of  Japan,  lies 
within  the  confines  of  that  moat,  which  is  the  only  great 
majestic  thing  in  an  untidy  rambling  village  of  more  than 
two  million  living  beings. 

The  Palace  of  the  Mikado — a  title  by  the  way  which 
is  never  used  among  Japanese — is  hidden  from  sight. 
That  is  the  first  remarkable  thing  about  it.  The  gesture 
of  Versailles,  the  challenge  of  "L'Etat  c'est  moi/'  the 
majestic  vulgarity  which  the  millionaire  of  the  moment 
can  mimic  with  a  vulgarity  less  majestic,  are  here  en- 
tirely absent ;  and  one  cannot  mimic  the  invisible. 

Hardly,  on  bare  winter  days,  when  the  sheltering 
groves  are  stripped,  and  the  saddened  heart  is  in  need 
of  reassurance,  appears  a  green  lustre  of  copper  roofs. 

The  Gosho  at  Tokyo  is  not  a  sovereign's  palace;  it  is 
the  abode  of  a  God. 

The  surrounding  woods  and  gardens  occupy  a  space 
larger  than  Hyde  Park  in  the  very  centre  of  the  city. 
One  well-groomed  road  crosses  an  extreme  corner  of  this 
estate.  Elsewhere  only  privileged  feet  may  tread.  This 
is  a  vast  encumbrance  in  a  modern  commercial  metropo- 
lis, but  a  striking  tribute  to  the  unseen. 

The  most  noticeable  feature  of  the  Palace  is  its  moats. 
These  lie  in  three  or  four  concentric  circles,  the  defences 
of  ancient  Yedo,  whose  outer  lines  have  now  been  filled 
up  by  modern  progress  and  an  electric  railway.  They 
are  broad  sheets  of  water  as  wide  as  the  Thames  at 
Oxford,  where  ducks  are  floating  and  fishing.  Beyond 
is  a  glacis  of  vivid  grass,  a  hundred  feet  high  at  some 
points,  topped  by  vast  iron-grey  walls  of  cyclopean  boul- 
der-work, with  the  sudden  angles  of  a  Vauban  fortress. 
Above  these  walls  the  weird  pine-trees  of  Japan  extend 
their  lean  tormented  boughs.  Within  is  the  Emperor's 
domain. 


90  KIMONO 

Geoffrey  was  hurrying  homeward  along  the  banks  of 
the  moat.  The  stagnant,  viscous  water  was  yellow  under 
the  sunset,  and  a  yellow  light  hung  over  the  green  slopes, 
the  grey  walls  and  the  dark  tree  tops.  An  echelon  of 
geese  passed  high  overhead  in  the  region  of  the  pale 
moon.  Within  the  mysterious  enclave  of  the  "Son  of 
Heaven"  the  crows  were  uttering  their  harsh  sarcastic 
croak. 

Witchery  is  abroad  in  Tokyo  during  this  brief  sunset 
hour.  The  mongrel  nature  of  the  city  is  less  evident. 
The  pretentious  Government  buildings  of  the  New  Japan 
assume  dignity  with  the  deep  shadows  and  the  heighten- 
ing effect  of  the  darkness.  The  untidy  network  of  tan- 
gled wires  fades  into  the  coming  obscurity.  The  rickety 
trams,  packed  to  overflowing  with  the  city  crowds  re- 
turning homeward,  become  creeping  caterpillars  of  light. 
Lights  spring  up  along  the  banks  of  the  moat.  More 
lights  are  reflected  from  its  depth.  Dark  shadows  gather 
like  a  frown  round  the  Gate  of  the  Cherry  Field,  where 
li  Kamon  no  Kami's  blood  stained  the  winter  snow-drifts 
some  sixty  years  ago,  because  he  dared  to  open  the 
Country  of  the  Gods  to  the  contemptible  foreigners ;  and 
in  the  cry  of  the  fo/w-seller  echoes  the  voice  of  old 
Japan,  a  long-drawn  wail,  drowned  at  last  by  the  grind- 
ing of  the  tram  wheels  and  the  lash  and  crackle  of  the 
connecting-rods  against  the  overhead  lines. 

Geoffrey,  sitting  back  in  his  rickshaw,  turned  up  his 
coat-collar,  and  watched  the  gathering  pall  of  cloud  ex- 
tinguishing the  sunset. 

"Looks  like  snow,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "but  it  is  im- 
possible !" 

At  the  entrance  to  the  Imperial  Hotel — a  Government 
institution,  as  almost  everything  in  Japan  ultimately 
turns  out  to  be — Tanaka  was  standing  in  his  character- 
istic attitude  of  a  dog  who  waits  for  his  master's  return. 
Characteristically  also,  he  was  talking  to  a  man,  a  Jap- 
anese, a  showy  person  with  spectacles  and  oily  buffalo- 
horn  moustaches,  dressed  in  a  vivid  pea-green  suit.  How- 
ever, at  Geoffrey's  approach,  this  individual  raised  his 


THE  EMBASSY  91 

bowler-hat,  bobbed  and  vanished;  and  Tanaka  assisted 
his  patron  to  descend  from  his  rickshaw. 

As  he  approached  the  door  of  his  suite,  a  little  cloud 
of  hotel  boys  scattered  like  sparrows.  This  phenomenon 
did  not  as  yet  mean  anything  to  Geoffrey.  The  native 
servants  were  not  very  real  to  him.  But  he  was  soon  to 
realize  that  the  boy  son — Mister  Boy,  as  his  dignity  now 
insists  on  being  called — is  more  than  an  amusing  con- 
tribution to  the  local  atmosphere.  When  his  smiles,  his 
bows,  and  his  peculiar  English  begin  to  pall,  he  reveals 
himself  in  his  true  light  as  a  constant  annoyance  and  a 
possible  danger.  Hell  knows  no  fury  like  the  untipped 
"boy  san."  He  refuses  to  answer  the  bell.  He  suddenly 
understands  no  English  at  all.  He  bangs  all  the  doors. 
He  spends  his  spare  moments  in  devising  all  kinds  of 
petty  annoyances,  damp  and  dirty  sheets,  accidental  dam- 
age to  property,  surreptitious  draughts.  And  to  vex  one 
boy  san  is  to  antagonize  the  whole  caste ;  it  is  a  boycott. 
At  last  the  tip  is  given.  Sudden  sunshine,  obsequious 
manners,  attention  of  all  kinds — for  ever  dwindling 
periods,  until  at  last  the  boy  san  attains  his  end,  a  fat 
retaining  fee,  extorted  at  regular  intervals. 

But  even  more  exasperating,  since  no  largesse  can 
cure  it,  is  his  national  bent  towards  espionage.  What 
does  he  do  with  his  spare  time,  of  which  he  has  so  much? 
He  spends  it  in  watching  and  listening  to  the  hotel 
guests.  He  has  heard  legends  of  large  sums  paid  for 
silence  or  for  speech.  There  may  be  money  in  it,  there- 
fore, and  there  is  always  amusement.  So  the  only  house- 
work which  the  boy  san  does  really  willingly,  is  to  dust 
the  door,  polish  the  handle,  wipe  the  threshold; — any- 
thing in  fact  which  brings  him  into  the  propinquity  of 
the  keyhole.  What  he  observes  or  overhears,  he  ex- 
changes with  another  boy  san;  and  the  hall  porter  or  the 
head  waiter  generally  serves  as  Chief  Intelligence  Bu- 
reau, and  is  always  in  touch  with  the  Police. 

The  arrival  of  guests  so  remarkable  as  the  Barring- 
tons  became,  therefore,  at  once  a  focus  for  the  curiosity 
and  the  ambition  of  the  boy  sans.  And  a  rickshaw-man 


92  KIMONO 

had  told  the  loagekeeper,  whose  wife  told  the  wife  of  one 
of  the  cooks,  who  told  the  head  waiter,  that  there  was 
some  connection  between  these  visitors  and  the  rich  Fu- 
jinami.  All  the  boy  sans  knew  what  the  Fujinami  meant ; 
so  here  was  a  cornucopia  of  unwholesome  secrets.  It 
was  the  most  likely  game  which  had  arrived  at  the  Im- 
perial Hotel  for  years,  ever  since  the  American  million- 
aire's wife  who  ran  away  with  a  San  Francisco  China- 
man. 

But  to  Geoffrey,  when  he  broke  up  the  gathering,  the 
boy  sans  were  just  a  lot  of  queer  little  Japs. 

Asako  was  lying  on  her  sofa,  reading.  Titine  was 
brushing  her  hair.  Asako,  when  she  read,  which  was  not 
often,  preferred  literature  of  the  sentimental  school, 
books  like  The  Rosary,  with  stained  glass  in  them,  and 
tragedy  overcome  by  nobleness  of  character. 

"I've  been  lonely  without  you  and  nervous,"  she  said, 
"and  I've  had  a  visitor  already." 

She  pointed  to  a  card  lying  on  a  small  round  table,  a 
flimsy  card  printed — not  engraved — on  cream-coloured 
pasteboard.  Geoffrey  picked  it  up  with  a  smile. 

"Curio  dealers?"  he  asked. 

Japanese  letters  were  printed  on  one  side  and  English 
on  the  other. 


S.  ITO 

Attorney  of  Law 


"Ito,  that's  the  lawyer  fellow,  who  pays  the  dividends. 
Did  you  see  him," 

"Oh,  no,  I  was  much  too  weary.  But  he  has  only  just 
gone.  You  probably  passed  him  on  the  stairs." 

Geoffrey  could  only  think  of  the  vivid  gentleman,  who 
had  been  talking  with  Tanaka.  The  guide  was  sent  for 
and  questioned,  but  he  knew  nothing.  The  gentleman 
in  green  had  merely  stopped  to  ask  him  the  time. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL 

Tomarite  mo  Little  butterfly  1 

Tsubaso  wa  ugoku  Even  when  it  settles 

Kocho  kana!  Its  wings  are  moving. 

NEXT  morning  it  was  snowing  and  bitterly  cold.  Snow 
in  Japan,  snow  in  April,  snow  upon  the  cherry  trees, 
what  hospitality  was  this? 

The  snow  fell  all  day,  muffling  the  silent  city.  Silence 
is  at  all  times  one  of  Tokyo's  characteristics.  For  so 
large  and  important  a  metropolis  it  is  strangely  silent 
always.  The  only  continuous  street  noise  is  the  grating 
and  crackling  of  the  trams.  The  lumbering  of  horse 
vehicles  and  the  pulsation  of  motor  traffic  are  absent ;  for 
as  beasts  of  burden  horses  are  more  costly  than  men, 
and  in  1914  motor  cars  were  still  a  novelty.  Since  the 
war  boom,  of  course,  every  narikin  (noiivcau  richc)  has 
rushed  to  buy  his  car ;  but  even  so,  the  state  of  the  roads, 
which  alternate  between  boulders  and  slush,  do  not  en- 
courage the  motorist,  and  are  impassable  for  heavy  lor- 
ries. So  incredible  weights  and  bundles  are  moved  on 
hand-barrows  ;  and  bales  of  goods  and  stacks  of  produce 
are  punted  down  the  dark  waterways  which  give  to  parts 
of  Tokyo  a  Venetian  picturesqueness.  Passengers,  too 
proud  to  walk,  flit  past  noiselessly  in  rubber-tyred  rick- 
shaws— which  are  not,  as  many  believe,  an  ancient  and 
typical  Oriental  conveyance,  but  the  modern  invention 
of  an  English  missionary  called  Robinson.  The  hum  of 
the  city  is  dominated  by  the  screech  of  the  tramcars  in 
the  principal  streets  and  by  the  patter  of  the  wooden 
clogs,  an  incessant,  irritating  sound  like  rain.  But  these 
were  now  hushed  by  the  snow. 

Neither  the  snow  nor  the  other  of  Nature's  discourage- 
ments can  keep  the  Japanese  for  long  indoors.  Perhaps 

93 


94  KIMONO 

it  is  because  their  own  houses  are  so  draughty  and  un- 
comfortable. 

This  day  they  were  out  in  their  thousands,  men  and 
women,  drifting  aimlessly  along  the  pavements,  as  is 
their  wont,  wrapped  in  grey  ulsters,  their  necks  protected 
by  ragged  furs,  pathetic  spoils  of  domestic  tabbie_s,  and 
their  heads  sheltered  under  those  wide  oil-paper  um- 
brellas, which  have  become  a  symbol  of  Japan  in  foreign 
eyes,  the  gigantic  sunflowers  of  rainy  weather,  huge 
blooms  of  dark  blue  or  black  or  orange,  inscribed  with 
the  name  and  address  of  the  owner  in  cursive  Japanese 
script. 

Most  of  these  people  are  wearing  ashida,  high  wooden 
clogs  perilous  to  the  balance,  which  raise  them  as  on 
stilts  above  the  street  level  and  add  to  the  fantastical 
appearance  of  these  silent  shuffling  multitudes. 

The  snow  falls,  covering  the  city's  meannesses,  its 
vulgar  apings  of  Americanisms,  its  crude  advertise- 
ments. On  the  other  hand,  the  true  native  architecture 
asserts  itself,  and  becomes  more  than  ever  attractive. 
The  white  purity  seems  to  gather  all  this  miniature  per- 
fection, these  irregular  roofs,  these  chalet  balconies, 
these  broad  walls  and  studies  in  rock  and  tree  under  a 
close-fitting  cape,  its  natural  winter  garment. 


The  first  chill  of  the  rough  weather  kept  Geoffrey  and 
Asako  by  their  fireside.  But  the  indoor  amenities  of 
Japanese  hotel  life  are  few.  There  is  a  staleness  in  the 
public  rooms  and  an  angular  discord  in  the  private  sit- 
ting-rooms, which  condemn  the  idea  of  a  comfortable 
day  of  reading,  or  of  writing  to  friends  at  home  about 
the  Spirit  of  the  East.  So  at  the  end  of  the  first  half  of 
a  desolate  afternoon,  a  visit  to  the  Embassy  suggested 
itself. 

They  left  the  hotel,  ushered  on  their  way  by  bowing 
boy  sans;  and  in  a  few  minutes  an  unsteady  motor-car, 
careless  of  obstacles  and  side-slips,  had  whirled  them 
through  the  slushy  streets  into  the  British  compound, 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  95 

which  only  wanted  a  robin  to  look  like  the  conventional 
Christmas  card. 

It  was  a  pleasant  shock,  after  long  traveling  through 
countries  modernized  in  a  hurry,  to  be  received  by  an 
English  butler  against  a  background  of  thick  Turkey 
carpet,  mahogany  hall  table  and  Buhl  clock.  It  was  like 
a  bar  of  music  long-forgotten  to  see  the  fall  of  snowy 
white  cards  accumulating  in  their  silver  bowl. 

Lady  Cynthia  Cairns's  drawing-room  was  not  an  artis- 
tic apartment ;  it  was  too  comfortable  for  that.  There 
were  too  many  chairs  and  sofas ;  and  they  were  designed 
on  broad  lines  for  the  stolid,  permanent  sitting  of  stout, 
comfortable  bodies.  There  were  too  many  photographs 
on  view  of  persons  distinguished  for  their  solidity  rather 
than  for  their  good  looks,  the  portraits  of  the  guests 
whom  one  would  expect  to  find  installed  in  those  chairs. 
A  grand  piano  was  there ;  but  the  absence  of  any  music 
in  its  neighbourhood  indicated  that  its  purpose  was  chiefly 
to  symbolize  harmony  in  the  home  life,  and  to  provide 
a  spacious  crush-room  for  the  knick-knacks  overflowing 
from  many  tables.  These  were  dominated  by  a  large 
signed  photograph  of  Queen  Victoria.  In  front  of  an 
open  fireplace,  where  bright  logs  were  crackling,  slept 
an  enormous  black  cat  on  a  leopard's  skin  hearthrug. 

Out  of  this  sea  of  easy  circumstances  rose  Lady  Cyn- 
thia. A  daughter  of  the  famous  Earl  o£  Cheviot,  hers 
was  a  short  but  not  unmajestic  figure,  encased  in  black 
silks  which  rustled  and  showed  flashes  of  beads  and  jet 
in  the  dancing  light  of  the  fire.  She  had  the  firm  pose 
of  a  man,  and  a  face  entirely  masculine  with  strong  lips 
and  chin  and  humourous  grey  eyes,  the  face  of  a  judge. 

Miss  Gwendolen  Cairns,  who  had  apparently  been 
reading  to  her  mother  when  the  visitors  arrived,  was  a 
tall  girl  with  fair  cendre  hair.  The  simplicity  of  the  cut 
of  her  dress  and  its  pale  green  color  showed  artistic  sym- 
pathies of  the  old  aesthetic  kind.  The  maintained  amia- 
bility of  her  expression  and  manner  indicated  her  life's 
task  of  smoothing  down  feelings  ruffled  by  her  mother's 
asperities,  and  of  oiling  the  track  of  her  father's  career. 


96  KIMONO 

"How  are  you,  my  dears?"  Lady  Cynthia  was  saying. 
"I'm  so  glad  you've  come  in  spite  of  the  tempest.  Gwen- 
dolen was  just  reading  me  to  sleep.  Do  you  ever  read  to 
your  husband,  Mrs.  Harrington  ?  It  is  a  good  idea,  if  only 
your  voice  is  sufficiently  monotonous." 

"I  hope  we  haven't  interrupted  you,"  murmured  Asako, 
who  was  rather  alarmed  at  the  great  lady's  manner. 

"It  was  a  shock  when  I  heard  the  bell  ring.  I  cried 
out  in  my  sleep — didn't  I,  Gwendolen? — and  said,  'It's 
the  Beebees !' ' 

"I'm  glad  it  wasn't  as  bad  as  all  that,"  said  Geoffrey, 
coming  to  his  wife's  rescue;  "would  that  have  been  the 
worst  that  could  possibly  happen?" 

"The  very  worst,"  Lady  Cynthia  answered.  "Profes- 
sor Beebee  teaches  something  or  other  to  the  Japanese, 
and  he  and  Mrs.  Beebee  have  lived  in  Japan  for  the  last 
forty  years.  They  remind  me  of  that  old  tortoise  at  the 
Zoo,  who  has  lived  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  for  so  many 
centuries  that  he  is  quite  covered  with  seaweed  and 
barnacles.  But  they  are  very  sorry  for  me,  because  I 
only  came  here  yesterday.  They  arrive  almost  every 
day  to  instruct  me  in  the  path  in  which  I  should  go,  and 
to  eat  my  cakes  by  the  dozen.  They  don't  have  any  din- 
ner the  days  they  come  here  for  tea.  Mrs.  Beebee  is  the 
Queen  of  the  Goonies." 

"Who  are  the  Goonies?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"The  rest  of  the  old  tortoises.  They  are  missionaries 
and  professors  and  their  wives  and  daughters.  The  sons, 
of  course,  run  away  and  go  to  the  bad.  There  are  quite 
a  lot  of  the  Goonies,  and  I  see  much  more  of  them  than 
I  do  of  the  geishas  and  the  samurais  and  the  harakiris 
and  all  the  Eastern  things,  which  Gwendolen  will  talk 
about  when  she  gets  home.  She  is  going  to  write  a  book, 
poor  girl.  There's  nothing  else  to  do  in  this  country 
except  to  write  about  what  is  not  here.  It's  very  easy, 
you  know.  You  copy  it  all  out  of  some  one  else's  book, 
only  you  illustrate  it  with  your  own  snapshots.  The 
publishers  say  that  there  is  a  small  but  steady  demand, 
chiefly  for  circulating  libraries  in  America.  You  see,  I 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  97 

have  been  approached  already  on  the  subject,  and  I  have 
not  been  here  many  months.  So  you've  seen  Reggie 
Forsyth  already,  he  tells  me.  What  do  you  think  of 
him?" 

"Much  the  same  as  usual;  he  seemed  rather  bored." 

Lady  Cynthia  had  led  her  guest  away  from  the  fireside, 
where  Gwendolen  Cairns  was  burbling  to  Asako. 

Geoffrey  could  feel  the  searchlight  of  her  judicial  eye 
upon  him,  and  a  sensation  like  the  pause  when  a  great 
man  enters  a  room.  Something  essential  was  going  to 
invade  the  commonplace  talk. 

"Captain  Barrington,  your  coming  here  just  now  is 
most  providential.  Reggie  Forsyth  is  not  bored  at  all, 
far  from  it." 

"I  thought  he  would  like  the  country,"  said  Geoffrey 
guardedly. 

"He  doesn't  like  the  country.  Why  should  he  ?  But  he 
likes  somebody  in  the  country.  Now  do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"Yes,"  agreed  Geoffrey,  "he  showed  me  the  photo- 
graph of  a  half  Japanese  girl.  He  said  that  she  was  his 
inspiration  for  local  colour." 

"Exactly,  and  she's  turning  his  brain  yellow,"  snapped 
Lady  Cynthia,  forgetting,  as  everybody  else  did,  in- 
cluding Geoffrey  himself,  that  the  same  criticism  might 
apply  to  Asako.  However,  Geoffrey  was  becoming  more 
sensitive  of  late.  He  blushed  a  little  and  fidgeted,  but  he 
answered, — 

"Reggie  has  always  been  easily  inflam'mable." 

"Oh,  in  England,  perhaps,  it's  good  for  a  boy's  educa- 
tion ;  but  out  here,  Captain  Barrington,  it  is  different. 
I  have  lived  for  a  long  time  East  of  Suez;  and  I  know 
the  danger  of  these  love  episodes  in  countries  where 
there  is  nothing  else  to  do,  nothing  else  to  talk  about. 
I  am  a  gossip  myself;  so  I  know  the  harm  gossip  can 
do." 

"But  is  it  so  serious,  Lady  Cynthia?  Reggie  rather 
laughed  about  it  to  me.  He  said,  'I  am  in  love  always — 
and  never !' " 


98  KIMONO 

"She  is  a  dangerous  young  lady,"  said  the  Ambassa- 
dress. "Two  years  ago  a  young  business  man  out  here 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  her.  In  the  autumn  his 
body  was  washed  ashore  near  Yokohama.  He  had  been 
bathing  imprudently,  and  yet  he  was  a  good  swimmer. 
Last  year  two  officers  attached  to  the  Embassy  fought 
a  duel,  and  one  was  badly  wounded.  It  was  turned  into 
an  accident  of  course;  but  they  were  both  admirers  of 
hers.  This  year  it  is  Reggie's  turn.  And  Reggie  is  a 
man  with  a  great  future.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  lose 
him." 

"Lady  Cynthia,  aren't  you  being  rather  pessimistic? 
Besides,  what  can  I  do?" 

"Anything,  everything!  Eat  with  him,  drink  with 
him,  play  cards  with  him,  go  to  the  dogs  with  him — no, 
what  a  pity  you  are  married!  But,  even  so,  it's  better 
than  nothing.  Play  tennis  with  him ;  take  him  to  the 
top  of  Fujiyama.  I  can  do  nothing  with  him.  He  flouts 
me  publicly.  The  old  man  can  give  him  an  official  scold- 
ing; and  Reginald  will  just  mimic  him  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Chancery.  I  can  hear  them  laughing  all  the  way 
from  here  when  Reggie  is  doing  what  he  calls  one  of  his 
'stunts'.  But  you — why,  he  can  see  in  your  face  the 
whole  of  London,  the  London  which  he  respects  and  ap- 
preciates in  spite  of  his  cosmopolitan  airs.  He  can  see 
himself  introducing  Miss  Yae  Smith  in  Lady  Evering- 
ton's  drawing-room  as  Mrs.  Forsyth." 

"Is  there  a  great  objection?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Lady  Cynthia. 

A  sudden  weariness  came  over  Geoffrey.  Did  that 
ruthless  "Impossible"  apply  to  his  case  also?  Would 
Lady  Everington's  door  be  closed  to  him  on  his  return? 
Was  he  guilty  of  that  worst  offence  against  Good  Form, 
a  mesalliance"?  Or  was  Asako  saved — by  her  money? 
Something  unfair  was  impending.  He  looked  at  the  two 
girls  seated  by  the  fireside,  sipping  their  tea  and  laugh- 
ing together.  He  must  have  shown  signs  of  his  em- 
barrassment, for  Lady  Cynthia  said, — 

"Don't  be  absurd,  Captain   Barrington.     The  case   is 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  99 

entirely  different.  A  lady  is  always  a  lady,  whether  she 
is  born  in  England  or  Japan.  Miss  Smith  is  not  a  lady; 
still  worse,  she  is  a  half-caste,  the  daughter  of  an  adven- 
turer journalist  and  a  tea-house  woman.  What  can  one 
expect  ?  It  is  bad  blood." 


After  taking  leave  of  the  Cairns,  Geoffrey  and  Asako 
crossed  the  garden  compound,  white  and  Christmas-like 
under  its  covering  of  snow.  They  found  their  way  down 
the  by-path  which  led  to  the  discreet  seclusion  of  Reggie 
Forsyte's  domain.  The  leaping  of  fire  shadows  against 
the  lowered  blinds  gave  a  warm  and  welcoming  impres- 
sion of  shelter  and  comfort;  and  still  more  welcoming 
were  the  sounds  of  the  piano.  It  was  a  pleasure  for  the 
travellers  to  hear,  for  they  had  long  been  unaccustomed 
to  the  sound  of  music.  Music  should  be  the  voice  of  the 
soul  of  the  house ;  in  the  discord  of  hotels  it  is  lost  and 
scattered,  but  the  home  which  is  without  music  is  dumb 
and  imperfect.  * 

Reggie  must  have  heard  them  coming,  for  he  changed 
the  dreamy  melody  which  he  was  playing  into  the  chorus 
of  a  popular  song  which  had  been  rife  in  London  a  year 
ago.  Geoffrey  laughed.  "Father's  home  again !  Father's 
home  again !"  he  hummed,  fitting  the  words  to  the  tune, 
as  he  waited  for  the  door  to  open. 

They  were  greeted  in  the  passage  by  Reggie.  He  was 
dressed  in  all  respects  like  a  Japanese  gentleman,  in  black 
silk  haori  (cloak),  brown  wadded  kimono  and  fluted 
hakama  (skirt).  He  wore  white  tabi  (socks)  and  straw 
sori  (slippers).  It  is  a  becoming  and  sensible  dress  for 
any  man. 

"I  thought  it  must  be  you,"  he  laughed,  "so  I  played 
the  watchword.  Fancy  you're  being  so  homesick  already. 
Please  come  in,  Mrs.  Harrington.  I  have  often  longed 
to  see  you  in  Japan,  but  I  never  thought  you  would  come ; 
and  let  me  take  your  coat  off.  You  will  find  it  quite 
warm  indoors." 

It  was  warm  indeed.    There  was  the  heat  of  a  green- 


100  KIMONO 

house  in  Reggie's  artistically  ordered  room.  It  was 
larger  too  than  on  the  occasion  of  Geoffrey's  visit;  for 
the  folding  doors  which  led  into  a  further  apartment 
were  thrown  open.  Two  big  fires  were  blazing ;  and  old 
gold  screens,  glittering  like  Midas's  treasury,  warded  off 
the  draught  from  the  windows.  The  air  was  heavy  with 
fumes  of  incense  still  rising  from  a  huge  brass  brazier, 
full  of  glowing  charcoal  and  grey  sand,  placed  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  In  one  corner  stood  the  Buddha 
table  twinkling  in  the  firelight.  The  miniature  trees 
were  disposed  along  the  inner  wall.  There  was  no  other 
furniture  except  an  enormous  black  cushion  lying  be- 
tween the  brazier  and  the  fireplace ;  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  cushion — a  little  Japanese  girl. 

She  was  squatting  on  her  white-gloved  toes  in  native 
fashion.  Her  kimono  was  sapphire  blue,  and  it  was  fas- 
tened by  a  huge  silver  sash  with  a  blue  and  green  pea- 
cock embroidered  on  the  fold  of  the  bow,  which  looked 
like  great  wings  and  was  almost  as  big  as  the  rest  of  the 
little  person  put  together.  Her  back  was  turned  to  the 
guests ;  and  she  was  gazing  into  the  flames  in  an  attitude 
of  reverie.  She  seemed  unconscious  of  everything,  as 
though  still  listening  to  the  echo  of  the  silent  music. 
Reggie  in  his  haste  to  greet  his  visitors  had  not  noticed 
the  hurried  solicitude  to  arrange  the  set  of  the  kimono 
to  a  nicety  in  order  to  indicate  exactly  the  right  pose. 

She  looked  like  a  jeweled  butterfly  on  a  great  black 
leaf. 

"Yae — Miss  Smith,"  said  Reggie,  "these  are  my  old 
friends  whom  I  was  telling  you  about." 

The  small  creature  rose  slowly  with  a  dreamy  grace, 
and  stepped  off  her  cushion  as  a  fairy  might  alight  from 
her  walnut-shell  carriage. 

"I  am  very  pleased  to  meet  you,"  she  purred. 

It  was  the  stock  American  phrase  which  has  crossed 
the  Pacific  westwards ;  but  the  citizen's  brusqueness  was 
replaced  by  the  condescension  of  a  queen. 

Her  face  was  a  delicate  oval  of  the  same  creamy 
smoothness  as  Asako's.  But  the  chin,  which  in  Asako's 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  101 

case  receded  a  trifle  in  obedience  to  Japanese  canons  of 
beauty,  was  thrust  vigorously  forward ;  and  the  curved 
lips  in  their  Cupid's  bow  seemed  moulded  for  kissing  by 
generations  of  European  passions,  whereas  about  Japan- 
ese mouths  there  is  always  something  sullen  and  pinched 
and  colourless.  The  bridge  of  her  nose  and  her  eyes  of 
deep  olive  green,  the  eyes  of  a  wildcat,  gave  the  lie  to 
her  mother's  race. 

Reggie's  artistry  could  not  help  watching  the  two 
women  together  with  appreciative  satisfaction.  Yae  was 
even  smaller  and  finer-fingered  than  the  pure-bred  Jap- 
anese. Ever  since  he  had  first  met  Yae  Smith  he  had 
compared  and  contrasted  her  in  his  mind  with  Asako 
Harrington.  He  had  used  both  as  models  for  his  dainty 
music.  His  harmonies,  he  was  wont  to  explain,  came  to 
him  in  woman's  shape.  To  express  Japan  he  must  see  a 
Japanese  woman.  Not  that  he  had  any  interest  in  Jap- 
anese women,  physically.  They  are  too  different  from 
our  women,  he  used  to  think ;  and  the  difference  repelled 
and  fascinated  him.  It  is  so  wide  that  it  can  only  be 
crossed  by  frank  sensuality  or  by  blind  imagination.  But 
the  artist  needs  his  flesh-and-blood  interpreter  if  he  is  to 
get  even  as  far  as  a  misunderstanding.  So  in  figuring  to 
himself  the  East,  Reggie  had  at  first  made  use  of  his 
memory  of  Asako,  with  her  European  education  built  up 
over  the  inheritance  of  Japan.  Later  he  met  Yae  Smith, 
through  the  paper  walls  of  whose  Japanese  existence  the 
instincts  of  her  Scottish  forefathers  kept  forcing  their 
unruly  way. 

Geoffrey  could  not  define  his  thoughts  so  precisely; 
but  something  unruly  stirred  in  his  consciousness,  when 
he  saw  the  ghost  of  his  days  of  courtship  rise  before  him 
in  the  deep  blue  kimono.  His  wife  had  certainly  made  a 
great  abdication  when  she  abandoned  her  native  dress 
for  plain  blue  serges.  Of  course  he  could  not  have  Asako 
looking  like  a  doll ;  but  still — had  he  fallen  in  love  with  a 
few  yards  of  silk? 

Yae  Smith  seemed  most  anxious  to  please  in  spite  of  the 
affectation  of  her  poses,  which  perhaps  were  necessary  to 


102  KIMONO 

her,  lest,  looking  so  much  like  a  plaything,  she  might  be 
greeted  as  such.  She  always  wanted  to  be  liked  by  people. 
This  was  her  leading  characteristic.  It  was  at  the  root 
of  her  frailties — a  soil  overfertilized  from  which  weeds 
spring  apace. 

She  was  voluble  in  a  gentle  catlike  way,  praising  the 
rings  on  Asako's  fingers,  and  the  cut  and  material  of  her 
dress.  But  her  eyes  were  forever  glancing  towards 
Geoffrey.  He  was  so  very  tall  and  broad,  standing  in 
the  framework  of  the  folding  doors  beside  the  slim  figure 
of  Reggie,  more  girlish  than  ever  in  the  skirts  of  his 
kimono. 

Captain  Barrington,  the  son  of  a  lord!  How  fine  he 
must  look  in  uniform,  in  that  cavalry  uniform,  with  the 
silver  cuirass  and  the  plumed  helmet  like  the  English 
soldiers  in  her  father's  books  at  home ! 

"Your  husband  is  very  big,"  she  said  to  Asako. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  said  Asako ;  "much  too  big  for  Japan." 

"Oh,  I  should  like  that,"  said  the  little  Eurasian,  "it 
must  be  nice." 

There  was  a  warmth,  a  sincerity  in  the  tone  which 
made  Asako  stare  at  her  companion.  But  the  childish 
face  was  innocent  and  smiling.  The  languid  curve  of  the 
smile  and  the  opalescence  of  the  green  eyes  betrayed 
none  of  their  secrets  to  Asako's  inexperience. 

Reggie  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and,  still  watching  the 
two  women,  he  began  to  play. 

"This  is  the  Yae  Sonata,"  he  explained  to  Geoffrey. 

It  began  with  some  bars  from  an  old  Scottish  song: 

"Had  we  never  loved  so  sadly, 
Had  we  never  loved  so  madly, 
Never  loved  and  never  parted, 
We  had  ne'er  been  broken-hearted." 

Insensibly  the  pathetic  melody  faded  away  into  the 
staccato  beat  of  a  geisha's  song,  with  more  rhythm  than 
tune,  which  doubled  and  redoubled  its  pace,  stumbling 
and  leaping  up  again  over  strange  syncopations. 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  103 

All  of  a  sudden  the  musician  stopped. 

"I  can't  describe  your  wife,  now  that  I  see  her,"  he 
said.  "I  don't  know  any  dignified  old  Japanese  music, 
something  like  the  gavottes  of  Couperin  only  in  a  setting 
of  Kyoto  and  gold  screens  ;  and  then  there  must  be  a  dash 
of  something  very  English  which  she  has  acquired  from 
you — 'Home,  Sweet  Home'  or  'Sally  in  our  Alley.' " 

"Never  mind,  old  chap !"  said  Geoffrey ;  "play  'Father's 
home  again !' " 

Reggie  shook  himself ;  and  then  struck  up  the  rolling 
chorus ;  but,  as  he  interpreted  it,  his  mood  turned  pensive 
again.  The  tone  was  hushed,  the  time  slower.  The 
vulgar  tune  expressed  itself  suddenly  in  deep  melancholy. 
It  brought  back  to  the  two  young  men  more  forcibly 
than  the  most  inspired  concerto,  the  memory  of  England, 
the  sparkle  of  the  theatres,  the  street  din  of  London, 
and  the  warmth  of  good  company — all  that  had  seemed 
sweet  to  them  in  a  time  which  was  distant  now. 

Reggie  ceased  playing.  The  two  girls  were  sitting 
together  now  on  the  big  black  cushion  in  front  of  the 
fire.  They  were  looking  at  a  portfolio  of  Japanese  prints, 
Reggie's  embryo  collection. 

The  young  diplomat  said  to  his  friend : 

"Geoffrey,  you've  not  been  in  the  East  long  enough  to 
be  exasperated  by  it.  I  have.  So  our  ideas  will  not  be 
in  sympathy." 

"It's  not  what  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be,  I  must 
admit.  Everything  is  so  much  of  a  muchness.  If  you've 
seen  one  temple  you've  seen  the  lot,  and  the  same  with 
everything  here." 

"That  is  the  first  stage,  Disappointment.  We  have 
heard  so  much  of  the  East  and  its  splendours,  the  gorge- 
ous East  and  the  rest  of  it.  The  reality  is  small  and 
sordid,  and  like  so  much  that  is  ugly  in  our  own  country." 

"Yes,  they  wear  shocking  bad  clothes,  don't  they, 
directly  they  get  out  of  kimonos;  and  even  the  kimonos 
look  dingy  and  dirty." 

"They  are."  said  Reggie.    "Yours  would  be,  if  you  had 


104  KIMONO 

to  keep  a  wife  and  eight  children  on  thirty  shillings  a 
month." 

Then  he  added: 

"The  second  stage  in  the  observer's  progress  is  Dis- 
covery. Have  you  read  Lafcadio  Hearn's  books  about 
Japan?" 

"Yes.  some  of  them,"  answered  Geoffrey.  "It  strikes 
me  that  he  was  a  thorough-paced  liar." 

"No,  he  was  a  poet,  a  poet ;  and  he  jumped  over  the  first 
stage  to  dwell  for  some  time  in  the  second,  probably 
because  he  was  by  nature  short-sighted.  That  is  a  great 
advantage  for  discoverers." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  the  second  stage?" 

"The  stage  of  Discovery !  Have  you  ever  walked 
about  a  Japanese  city  in  the  twilight  when  the  evening 
bell  sounds  from  a  hidden  temple?  Have  you  turned 
into  the  by-streets  and  watched  the  men  returning  to 
their  wise  little  houses  and  the  family  groups  assembled 
to  meet  them  and  help  them  change  into  their  kimonos? 
Have  you  heard  the  splashing  and  the  chatter  of  the 
bath-houses  which  are  the  evening  clubs  of  the  common 
people  and  the  great  clearing-houses  of  gossip?  Have 
you  heard  the  broken  samisen  music  tracking  you  down 
a  street  of  geisha  houses  ?  Have  you  seen  the  geisha  her- 
self in  her  blue  cloak  sitting  rigid  and  expressionless  in 
the  rickshaw  which  is  carrying  her  off  to  meet  her  lover? 
Have  you  heard  the  drums  of  Priapus  beating  from  the 
gay  quarters?  Have  you  watched  the  crowds  which 
gather  round  a  temple  festival,  buying  queer  little  plants 
for  their  homes  and  farthing  toys  for  their  children, 
crowding  to  the  fortune-teller's  booth  for  news  of  good 
luck  and  bad  luck,  throwing  their  penny  to  the  god  and 
clapping  their  hands  to  attract  his  attention?  Have 
you  seen  anything  of  this  without  a  feeling  of  deep 
pleasure  and  a  wonder  as  to  how  these  people  live  and 
think,  what  we  have  got  in  common  with  them,  and 
what  we  have  got  to  learn  from  them?" 

"I  think  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Geoffrey.    "It's 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  105 

all  very  picturesque,  but  they  always  seem  to  be  hiding 
something." 

"Exactly,"  said  his  friend,  "and  every  man  of  intelli- 
gence who  has  to  live  in  this  country  thinks  that  he  need 
only  learn  their  language  and  use  their  customs,  and  then 
he  will  find  out  what  is  hidden.  That  is  what  Lafcadio 
Hearn  did ;  and  that  is  why  I  wear  a  kimono.  But  what 
did  he  find  out?  A  lot  of  pretty  stories,  echoes  of  old 
civilization  and  folk-lore ;  but  of  the  mind  and  heart  of 
the  Japanese  people — the  only  coloured  people,  after  all, 
who  have  held  their  heads  up  against  the  white  races — 
little  or  nothing  until  he  reached  the  third  stage,  Disillu- 
sionment. Then  he  wrote  Japan,  an  Interpretation,  which 
is  his  best  book." 

"I  haven't  read  it." 

"You  ought  to.  His  other  things  are  mere  melodies, 
the  kind  of  stuff  I  can  play  to  you  by  the  hour.  This  is 
a  serious  book  of  history  and  political  science." 

"Sounds  a  bit  dry  for  me."  laughed  Geoffrey. 

"It  is  a  disillusioned  man's  explanation  of  the  country 
into  which  he  had  tried  to  sink,  but  which  had  rejected 
him.  He  explains  the  present  by  the  past.  That  is  rea- 
sonable. The  dead  are  the  real  rulers  of  Japan,  he  says. 
Underneath  the  surface  changing,  the  nation  is  deeply 
conservative,  suspicious  of  all  interference  and  unconven- 
tionality,  sullenly  self-satisfied;  and  above  all,  still  as 
much  locked  in  its  primitive  family  system  as  it  was  a 
thousand  years  ago.  You  cannot  be  friends  with  a  Jap- 
anese unless  you  are  friends  with  his  family ;  and  you 
cannot  be  friends  with  his  family  unless  you  belong  to  it. 
This  is  the  deadlock;  and  this  is  why  we  never  get  any 
forwarder." 

"Then  I've  got  a  chance  since  I've  got  a  Japanese 
family." 

"I  don't  know  of  course,"  said  Reggie ;  "but  I  shouldn't 
think  they  would  have  much  use  for  you.  They  will 
receive  you  most  politely ;  but  they  will  look  upon  you 
as  an  interloper  and  they  will  try  to  steer  you  out  of 
the  country." 


106  KIMONO 

"But  my  wife?"  said  Geoffrey,  "she  is  their  own  flesh 
and  blood,  after  all." 

"Well,  of  course,  I  don't  know.  But  if  they  are  ex- 
tremely friendly  I  should  look  out,  if  I  were  you.  The 
Japanese  are  conventionally  hospitable,  but  they  are  not 
cordial  to  strangers  unless  they  have  a  very  strong 
motive." 

Geoffrey  Barrington  looked  in  the  direction  where  his 
wife  was  seated  on  a  corner  of  the  big  cushion,  turning 
over  one  by  one  a  portfolio  full  of  parti-colored  wood- 
prints on  their  broad  white  mounts.  The  firelight  flick- 
ered round  her  like  a  crowd  of  importunate  thoughts. 
She  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  her,  and  glanced  across 
at  him. 

"Can  you  see  in  there,  Mrs.  Barrington,  or  shall  I  turn 
the  lights  on?"  asked  her  host. 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  the  little  lady,  "that  would  spoil  it. 
The  pictures  look  quite  alive  in  the  firelight.  What  a 
lovely  collection  you've  got !" 

"There's  nothing  very  valuable  there,"  said  Reggie, 
"but  they  are  very  effective,  I  think,  even  the  cheap 
ones." 

Asako  was  holding  up  a  pied  engraving  of  a  sinuous 
Japanese  woman,  an  Utamaro  from  an  old  block  recut,  in 
dazzling  raiment,  with  her  sash  tied  in  front  of  her  and 
her  head  bristling  with  amber  pins  like  a  porcupine. 

"Geoffrey,  will  you  please  take  me  to  see  the  Yoshi- 
wara?"  she  asked. 

The  request  dismayed  Geoffrey.  He  knew  well  enough 
what  was  to  be  seen  at  the  Yoshiwara.  He  would  have 
been  interested  to  visit  the  licensed  quarter  of  the  demi- 
monde himself  in  the  company  of — say  Reggie  Forsyth. 
But  this  was  a  branch  of  inquiry  which  to  his  mind 
should  be  reserved  for  men  alone.  Nice  women  never 
think  of  such  things.  That  his  own  wife  should  wish 
to  see  the  place  and,  worse  still,  should  express  that  wish 
in  public  was  a  blatant  offence  against  Good  Form,  which 
could  only  be  excused  by  her  innocent  ignorance. 

But  Reggie,  who  was  used  to  the  curiosity  of  every 


THE  HALF-CASTE  GIRL  107 

tourist,  male  and  female,  about  the  night-life  of  Tokyo, 
answered  readily: 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Harrington.  It's  well  worth  seeing.  We 
must  arrange  to  go  down  there." 

"Miss  Smith  tells  me,"  said  Asako,  "that  all  these 
lovely  gay  creatures  are  Yoshiwara  girls;  and  that  you 
can  see  them  there  now." 

"Not  that  identical  lady  of  course,"  said  Reggie,  who 
had  joined  the  group  by  the  fireside,  "she  died  a  hun- 
dred years  ago;  but  her  professional  great-granddaugh- 
ters are  still  there." 

"And  I  can  see  them!"  Asako  clapped  her  hands. 
"Ladies  are  allowed  to  go  and  look?  It  does  not  mat- 
ter? It  is  not  improper?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Yae  Smith,  "my  brothers  have  taken 
me.  Would  you  like  to  go?" 

"Yes,  I  would,"  said  Asako,  glancing  at  her  husband, 
who,  however,  snowed  no  signs  of  approval. 


CHAPTER  IX 
ITO    SAN 

A  ma  no  hara  Can  even  the  God  of  Thunder 

Fumi-todorokashi  Whose   footfall  resounds 

Naru-kami  mo  In  the  plains  of  the  sky 

Omou-naka  wo  ba  Put  asunder 

Sakur*  mono  ka  waf  Those  whom  love  joins? 

GEOFFREY'S  conscience  was  disturbed.  His  face  was 
lined  and  worried  with  thought,  such  as  had  left  him 
untroubled  since  the  effervescences  of  his  early  youth. 
Like  many  young  men  of  his  caste,  he  had  soon  sub- 
mitted all  the  baffling  riddles  of  conduct  to  the  thumb 
rule  of  Good  Form.  This  Yoshiwara  question  was  to 
him  something  more  than  a  moral  conundrum.  It  was  a 
subtle  attack  by  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  aided  and  abetted 
by  his  old  friend  Reggie  Forsyth  and  by  the  mysterious 
forces  of  this  unfamiliar  land  as  typified  by  Yae  Smith, 
against  the  citadel  of  Good  Form,  against  the  stronghold 
of  his  principles. 

Geoffrey  himself  wished  to  see  the  Yoshiwara.  His 
project  had  been  that  one  evening,  when  Asako  had  been 
invited  to  dinner  by  friends,  he  and  Reggie  would  go 
and  look  at  the  place.  This  much  was  sanctioned  by 
Good  Form. 

For  him  to  take  his  wife  there,  and  for  people  to  know 
that  he  had  done  so,  would  be  the  worst  of  Bad  Form, 
the  conduct  of  a  rank  outsider.  Unfortunately,  it  was 
also  Bad  Formi  for  him  to  discuss  the  matter  with 
Asako. 

A  terrible  dilemma. 

Was  it  possible  that  the  laws  of  Good  and  Bad  Form 
were  only  locally  binding,  and  that  here  in  Japan  they 
were  no  longer  valid? 

Reggie  was  different.  He  was  so  awfully  clever.  He 
could  extemporize  on  Good  Form  as  he  could  extem- 

108 


ITO  SAN  109 

porize  on  the  piano.  Besides,  he  was  a  victim  to  the 
artistic  temperament,  which  cannot  control  itself.  But 
Reggie  had  not  been  improved  by  his  sojourn  in  this 
queer  country,  or  he  would  never  have  so  far  forgotten 
himself  as  to  speak  in  such  a  way  in  the  presence  of 
ladies. 

Geoffrey  would  give  him  a  good  beating  at  tennis ; 
and  then,  having  reduced  him  to  a  fit  state  of  humility, 
he  would  have  it  out  with  him.  For  Barrington  was  not 
a  man  to  nurse  displeasure  against  his  friends. 

The  tennis  courts  at  Tokyo — which  stand  in  a  magnifi- 
cent central  position  one  day  to  be  occupied  by  the  Jap- 
anese Houses  of  Parliament — are  every  afternoon  the 
meeting  place  for  youth  in  exile  with  a  sprinkling  of 
Japanese,  some  of  whom  have  acquired  great  skill  at  the 
game.  Towards  tea-time  the  ladies  arrive  to  watch  the 
evening  efforts  of  their  husbands  and  admirers,  and  to 
escort  them  home  when  the  light  begins  to  fail.  So  the 
tennis  courts  have  become  a  little  social  oasis  in  the  vast 
desert  of  oriental  life.  Brilliant  it  is  not.  Sparkle  there  is 
none.  But  there  is  a  certain  chirpmess,  the  forced  gaiety 
of  caged  birds. 

The  day  was  warm  and  bright.  The  snow  had  van- 
ished as  though  by  supernatural  command.  Geoffrey 
enjoyed  his  game  thoroughly,  although  he  was  beaten, 
being  out  of  practice  and  unused  to  gravel  courts.  But 
the  exercise  made  him,  in  his  own  language,  "sweat  like 
a  pig,"  and  he  felt  better.  He  thought  he  would  shelve 
the  unpleasant  subject  for  the  time  being;  but  it  was 
Reggie  himself  who  revived  it. 

"About  the  Yoshiwara,"  he  said,  seating  himself  on 
one  of  the  benches  placed  round  the  courts.  "They  are 
having  a  special  show  down  there  to-morrow.  It  will 
probably  be  worth  seeing." 

"Look  here,"  said  Geoffrey,  "is  it  the  thing  for  ladies- 
English  ladies — to  go  to  a  place  like  that  ?" 

"Of  course,"  answered  his  friend,  "it  is  one  of  the 
sights  of  Tokyo.  Why,  I  went  with  Lady  Cynthia  not  so 
long  ago.  She  was  quite  fascinated." 


110  KIMONO 

"By  Jove !"  Geoffrey  ejaculated.  "But  for  a  young 
girl ?  Did  Miss  Cairns  go  too?" 

"Not  on  that  occasion;  but  I  have  no  doubt  she  has 
been." 

"But  isn't  it  much  the  same  as  taking  a  lady  to  a 
public  brothel?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  was  Reggie's  answer,  "it  is  like 
along  Piccadilly  after  nightfall,  looking  in  at  the  Empire, 
and  returning  via  Regent  Street ;  and  in  Paris,  like  a 
visit  to  the  Rat  Mort  and  the  Bal  Tabarin.  It  is  the  local 
version  of  an  old  theme." 

"But  is  that  a  nice  sight  for  a  lady?" 

"It  is  what  every  lady  wants  to  see." 

"Reggie,  what  rot !    Any  clean-minded  girl " 

"Geoffrey,  old  man,  would  you  like  to  see  the  place?" 

"Yes,  but  for  a  man  it's  different." 

"Why  do  you  want  to  see  it  ?  You're  not  going  there 
for  business,  I  presume?" 

"Why?  for  curiosity,  I  suppose.  One  hears  such  a  lot 
of  people  talk  about  the  Yoshiwara " 

"For  curiosity,  that's  right:  and  do  you  really  think 
that  women,  even  clean-minded  women,  have  less  curi- 
osity than  men?" 

Geoffrey  Barrington  started  to  laugh  at  his  own  dis- 
comfiture. 

"Reggie,  you  were  always  a  devil  for  arguing !"  he  said. 
"At  home  one  would  never  talk  about  things  like  that." 

"There  must  be  a  slight  difference  then  between  Home 
and  Abroad.  Certain  bonds  are  relaxed.  Abroad,  one  is 
a  sight-seer.  One  is  out  to  watch  the  appearance  and 
habits  of  the  natives  in  a  semi-scientific  mood,  just  as 
one  looks  at  animals  in  the  Zoo.  Besides,  nobody  knows 
or  cares  who  one  is.  One  has  no  awkward  responsibili- 
ties towards  one's  neighbours ;  and  there  is  little  or  no 
danger  of  finding  an  intimate  acquaintance  in  an  embar- 
rassing position.  In  London  one  lives  in  constant  dread 
of  finding  people  out." 

"But  my  wife,"  Geoffrey  continued,  troubled  once 
more,  "I  can't  imagine " 


ITO  SAN  111 

"Mrs.  Harrington  may  be  an  exception;  but  take  my 
word  for  it,  every  woman,  however  good  and  holy,  is 
intensely  interested  in  the  lives  of  her  fallen  sisters.  They 
know  less  about  them  than  we  do.  They  are  therefore 
more  mysterious  and  interesting  to  them.  And  yet  they 
are  much  nearer  to  them  by  the  whole  difference  of  sex. 
There  is  always  a  personal  query  arising,  'I,  too,  might 
have  chosen  that  life — what  would  it  have  brought  me?' 
There  is  a  certain  compassion,  too ;  and  above  all  there 
is  the  intense  interest  of  rivalry.  Who  is  not  interested 
in  his  arch-enemy?  and  what  woman  does  not  want  to 
know  by  what  unholy  magic  her  unfair  competitor  holds 
her  power  over  men?" 

The  tennis  courts  were  filling  with  youths  released 
from  offices.  In  the  court  facing  them,  two  young  fellows 
had  begun  a  single.  One  of  them  was  a  Japanese ;  the 
other,  though  his  hair  and  eyes  were  of  the  native  breed, 
was  too  fair  of  skin  and  too  tall  of  stature.  He  was  a 
Eurasian.  They  both  played  exceedingly  well.  The 
rallies  were  long  sustained,  the  drives  beautifully  timed 
and  taken.  The  few  unemployed  about  the  courts  soon 
made  this  game  the  object  of  their  special  attention. 

"Who  are  they?"  asked  Geoffrey,  glad  to  change  the 
conversation. 

"That's  Aubrey  Smith,  Yae's  brother,  one  of  the  best 
players  here,  and  Viscount  Kamimura,  who  ought  to  be 
quite  the  best ;  but  he  has  just  married,  and  his  wife  will 
not  let  him  play  often  enough." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Geoffrey,  "he  was  on  the  ship  with 
us  coming  out." 

He  had  not  recognised  the  good-looking  young  Japan- 
ese. He  had  not  expected  to  meet  him  somehow  in  such 
a  European  milieu.  Kamimura  had  noticed  his  fellow- 
traveller,  however ;  and  when  the  set  was  over  and  the 
players  had  changed  sides,  he  came  up  and  greeted  him 
most  cordially. 

"I  hear  you  are  already  married,"  said  Geoffrey.  "Our 
best  congratulations !" 


112  KIMONO 

"ThanK  you,"  replied  Kamimura,  blushing.  Japanese 
blush  readily  in  spite  of  their  complexion. 

"We  Japanese  must  not  boast  about  our  wives.  It 
is  what  you  call  Bad  Form.  But  I  would  like  her  to 
meet  Mrs.  Barrington.  She  speaks  English  not  so  badly." 

"Yes,"  said  Geoffrey,  "I  hope  you  will  come  and  dine 
with  us  one  evening  at  the  Imperial." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  answered  the  young  Vis- 
count. "How  long  are  you  staying  in  Japan?" 

"Oh,  for  some  months." 

"Then  we  shall  meet  often,  I  hope,"  he  said,  and  re- 
turned to  his  game. 

"A  very  decent  fellow;  quite  human,"  Reggie  com- 
mented. 

"Yes,  isn't  he?"  said  Geoffrey;  and  then  he  asked 
suddenly, — 

"Do  you  think  he  would  take  his  wife  to  see  the 
Yoshiwara?" 

"Probably  not;  but  then  they  are  Japanese  people 
living  in  Japan.  That  alters  everything." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Geoffrey ;  and  he  was  conscious 
of  having  scored  off  his  friend  for  once. 

Miss  Yae  Smith  had  arrived  on  her  daily  visit  to  the 
courts.  She  was  already  surrounded  by  a  little  retinue 
of  young  men,  who,  however,  scattered  at  Reggie's  ap- 
proach. 

Miss  Yae  smiled  graciously  on  the  two  new-comers 
and  inquired  after  Mrs.  Barrington. 

"It  was  so  nice  to  talk  with  her  the  other  day ;  it  was 
like  being  in  England  again." 

Yes,  Miss  Yae  had  been  in  England  and  in  America 
too.  She  preferred  those  countries  very  much  to  Japan. 
It  was  so  much  more  amusing.  There  was  so  little  to 
do  here.  Besides,  in  Japan  it  was  such  a  small  world; 
and  everybody  was  so  disagreeable ;  especially  the 
women,  always  saying  untrue,  unkind  things. 

She  looked  so  immaterial  and  sprite-like  in  her  blue 
kimono,  her  strange  eyes  downcast  as  her  habit  was  when 
talking  about  herself  and  her  own  doings,  that  Geoffrey 


ITO  SAN  113 

could  think  no  evil  of  her,  nor  could  he  wonder  at 
Reggie's  gaze  of  intense  admiration  which  beat  upon  her 
like  sunlight  on  a  picture. 

However,  Asako  must  be  waiting  for  him.     He  took 
his  leave,  and  returned  to  his  hotel. 


Asako  had  been  entertaining  a  visitor.  She  had  gone 
out  shopping  for  an  hour,  not  altogether  pleased  to  find 
herself  alone.  On  her  return,  a  Japanese  gentleman  in 
a  vivid  green  suit  had  risen  from  a  seat  in  the  lounge  of 
the  hotel,  and  had  introduced  himself. 

"I  am  Ito,  your  attorney-of-law." 

He  was  a  small,  podgy  person  with  a  round  oily  face 
and  heavy  voluted  moustaches.  The  expression  of  his 
eyes  was  hidden  behind  gold-rimmed  spectacles.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  for  a  European  to  guess  his 
age,  anything  between  twenty-five  and  fifty.  His  thick, 
plum-coloured  hair  was  brushed  up  on  his  forehead  in 
a  butcher-boy's  curl.  His  teeth  glittered  with  dentist's 
gold.  He  wore  a  tweed  suit  of  bright  pea-soup  colour, 
a  rainbow  tie  and  yellow  boots.  Over  the  bulge  of  an 
egg-shaped  stomach  hung  a  massive  gold  watch-chain 
blossoming  into  a  semi-heraldic  charm,  which  might  be 
a  masonic  emblem  or  a  cycling  club  badge.  His  breast- 
pocket appeared  to  hold  a  quiverful  of  fountain-pens. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Harrington?  I  am  pleased  to 
meet  you." 

The  voice  was  high  and  squeaky,  like  a  boy's  voice 
when  it  is  breaking.  The  extended  hand  was  soft  and 
greasy  in  spite  of  its  attempt  at  a  firm  grip.  With  elab- 
orate politeness  he  ushered  Mrs.  Barrington  into  her 
chair.  He  took  his  place  close  beside  her,  crossed  his 
fat  legs,  and  stuck  his  thumbs  into  his  arm-holes. 

"I  am  your  friend  Ito,"  he  began,  "your  father's  friend, 
and  I  am  sure  to  be  your  friend,  too." 

But  for  the  reference  to  her  father  she  would  have 
snubbed  him.  She  decided  to  give  him  tea  in  the  lounge, 
and  not  to  invite  him  to  her  private  rooms.  A  growing 


114  KIMONO 

distrust  of  her  countrymen,  arising  largely  from  observa- 
tion of  the  ways  of  Tanaka,  was  making  little  Asako  less 
confiding  than  of  yore.  She  was  still  ready  to  be  amused 
by  them,  but  she  was  becoming  less  credulous  of  the 
Japanese  pose  of  simplicity  and  the  conventional  smile. 
However,  she  was  soon  melted  by  Mr.  Ito's  kindliness  of 
manner.  He  patted  her  hand,  and  called  her  "little  girl." 

"I  am  your  old  lawyer,"  he  kept  on  saying,  "your 
father's  friend,  and  your  best  friend  too.  Anything  you 
want,  just  ring  me  and  you  have  it.  There's  my  number. 
Don't  forget  now.  Shiba  1326.  What  do  you  think  of 
Japan,  now?  Beautiful  country,  I  think.  And  you  have 
not  yet  seen  Miyanoshita,  or  Kamakura,  or  Nikko 
temples.  You  have  not  yet  got  automobile,  I  think. 
Indeed,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  That  is  a  very  wrong  thing ! 
I  shall  at  once  order  for  you  a  very  splendid  automobile, 
and  we  must  make  a  grand  trip.  Every  rich  and  noble 
person  possesses  splendid  automobile." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  nice !"  Asako  clapped  her  hands. 
"Japan  is  so  pretty.  I  do  want  to  see  more  of  it.  But 
I  must  ask  my  husband  about  buying  the  motor." 

Ito  laughed  a  fat,  oily  laugh. 

"Indeed,  that  is  Japanese  style,  little  girl.  Japanese 
wife  say,  'I  ask  my  husband.'  American  style  wife  very 
different.  She  say,  'My  husband  do  this,  do  that' — like 
coolie.  I  have  travelled  much  abroad.  I  know  American 
custom  very  well." 

"My  husband  gives  me  all  I  want,  and  a  great  deal 
more,"  said  Asako. 

"He  is  very  kind  man,"  grinned  the  lawyer,  "because 
the  money  is  all  yours — not  his  at  all.  Ha,  ha !" 

Then,  seeing  that  his  officiousness  was  overstepping 
the  mark,  he  added, — 

"I  know  American  ladies  very  well.  They  don't  give 
money  to  their  husbands.  They  tell  their  husbands, 
'You  give  money  to  me.'  They  just  do  everything  them- 
selves, writing  cheques  all  the  time !" 

"Really?"  said  Asako;  "but  my  husband  is  the  kindest 
and  best  man  in  the  world!" 


ITO  SAN  115 

"Quite  right,  quite  right.  Love  your  husband  like  a 
good  little  girl.  But  don't  forget  your  old  lawyer,  Ito. 
I  was  your  father's  friend.  We  were  at  school  together 
here  in  Tokyo." 

This  interested  Asako  immensely.  She  tried  to  make 
the  lawyer  talk  further,  but  he  said  that  it  was  a  very 
long  story,  and  he  must  tell  her  some  other  time.  Then 
she  asked  him  about  her  cousin,  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro. 

"He  is  away  from  town  just  now.  When  he  returns, 
I  think  he  will  invite  you  to  splendid  feast." 

With  that  he  took  his  leave. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him?"  Asako  asked  Tanaka, 
who  had  been  watching  the  interview  with  an  attendant 
chorus  of  boy  sans. 

"He  is  haikara  gentleman,"  was  the  reply. 

Now,  haikara,  is  a  native  corruption  of  the  words 
"high  collar,"  and  denoted  at  first  a  variety  of  Japanese 
"nut,"  who  aped  the  European  and  the  American  in  his 
habits,  manners  and  dress — of  which  pose  the  high  collar 
was  the  most  visible  symbol.  The  word  was  presumably 
contemptuous  in  its  origin.  It  has  since,  however, 
changed  its  character  as  so  to  mean  anything  smart  and 
fashionable.  You  can  live  in  a  haikara  house,  you  can 
read  haikara  books,  you  can  wear  a  haikara  hat.  It  has 
become  indeed  practically  a  Japanese  equivalent  for  that 
untranslatable  expression  "chic." 


Asako  Barrington,  like  all  simple  people,  had  little 
familiarity  save  with  the  superficial  stratum  of  her  intel- 
ligence. She  lived  in  the  gladness  of  her  eyes  like  a 
happy  young  animal.  Nothing,  not  even  her  marriage, 
had  touched  her  very  profoundly.  Even  the  sudden  shock 
of  de  Erie's  love-making  had  not  shaken  anything  deeper 
than  her  natural  pride  and  her  ignorance  of  mankind. 

But  in  this  strange,  still  land,  whose  expression  looks 
inwards  and  whose  face  is  a  mask,  a  change  was  operat- 
ing. Ito  left  her,  as  he  had  intended,  with  a  growing 
sense  of  her  own  importance  as  distinct  from  her  hus- 


116  KIMONO 

band.  "I  was  your  father's  friend:  we  were  at  school 
together  here  in  Tokyo."  Why,  Geoffrey  did  not  even 
know  her  father's  name. 

Asako  did  not  think  as  closely  as  this.  She  could  not. 
But  she  must  have  looked  very  thoughful ;  for  when 
Geoffrey  came  in,  he  saw  her  still  sitting  in  the  lounge, 
and  exclaimed, — 

"Why,  my  little  Yum  Yum,  how  serious  we  are!  We 
look  as  if  we  were  at  our  own  funeral.  Couldn't  you  get 
the  things  you  wanted?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Asako,  trying  to  brighten  up,  "and  I've 
had  a  visitor.  Guess !" 

"Relations?" 

"No  and  yes.    It  was  Mr.  Ito,  the  lawyer." 

"Oh,  that  little  blighter.  That  reminds  me.  I  must  go 
and  see  him  to-morrow,  and  find  out  what  he  is  doing 
with  our  money." 

"My  money,"  laughed  Asako,  "Tanaka  never  lets  me 
forget  that." 

"Of  course,  little  one,"  said  Geoffrey,  "I'd  be  in  the 
workhouse  if  it  wasn't  for  you." 

"Geoffrey  darling,"  said  his  wife  hesitating,  "will  you 
give  me  something?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  my  sweetheart,  what  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  a  motor-car,  yes  please ;  and  I'd  like  to  have  a 
cheque-book  of  my  own.  Sometimes  when  I  am  out  by 
myself  I  would  like ' 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Geoffrey,  "you  ought  to  have 
had  one  long  ago.  But  it  was  your  own  idea ;  you  didn't 
want  to  be  bothered  with  money." 

"Oh  Geoffrey,  you  angel,  you  are  so  good  to  me." 

She  clung  to  his  neck ;  and  he,  seeing  the  hotel  deserted 
and  nobody  about,  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her 
bodily  upstairs  to  the  interest  and  amusement  of  the 
chorus  of  boy  sans,  who  had  just  been  discussing  why 
danna  son  had  left  okusan  for  so  many  hours  that  after- 
noon, and  who  and  what  was  the  Japanese  gentleman 
who  had  been  talking  to  oknsan  in  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   YOSHIWARA    WOMEN 

Kyushu  dai-ichi  no  ume  The    finest    plum-blossom    of 

Kon-ya  kimi  go  tame  ni  hiraku.  Kyushu 

Hana  no  skingi  wo  shiran  This  night  is  opening  for  thee. 

to  hosseba,  If   thou   wishest   to  know   the 

San-ko  tsuki  wo  funde  kitare.  true  character  of  this  flower, 

Come  at  the   third  hour  sing- 
ing in  the  moonlight. 
Yoshiwara  Popular  Song. 

As  the  result  of  an  affecting  scene  with  his  wife,  Geof- 
frey's opposition  to  the  Yoshiwara  project  collapsed. 
If  everybody  went  to  see  the  place,  then  it  could  not  be 
such  very  Bad  Form  to  do  so. 

Asako  rang  up  Reggie ;  and  on  the  next  afternoon  the 
young  diplomat  called  for  the  Harringtons  in  a  motor- 
car, where  Miss  Yae  Smith  was  already  installed.  They 
drove  through  Tokyo.  It  was  like  crossing  London  for 
the  space  of  distance  covered;  an  immense  city — yet 
is  it  a  city,  or  merely  a  village  preposterously  over- 
grown ? 

There  is  no  dignity  in  the  Japanese  capital,  nothing 
secular  or  permanent,  except  that  mysterious  forest- 
land  in  the  midst  of  the  moats  and  the  grey  walls,  where 
dwell  the  Emperor  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Race.  It  is  a 
mongrel  city,  a  vast  congeries  of  native  wooden  huts, 
hastily  equipped  with  a  few  modern  conveniences. 
Drunken  poles  stagger  down  the  streets,  waving  their 
cobwebs  of  electric  wires.  Rickety  trams  jolt  past, 
crowded  to  overflowing,  so  crowded  that  humanity  clings 
to  the  steps  and  platforms  in  clots,  like  flies  clinging  to 
some  sweet  surface.  Thousands  of  little  shops  glitter, 
wink  or  frown  at  the  passer-by.  Many  of  them  have 
western  plate-glass  windows  and  stucco  fronts,  hiding 
their  savagery,  like  a  native  woman  tricked  out  in  ridic- 

117 


118  KIMONO 

ulous  pomp.  Some,  still  grimly  conservative,  receive  the 
customer  in  their  cavernous  interior,  and  cheat  his  eyes 
in  their  perpetual  twilight.  Many  of  these  little  shops 
are  so  small  that  their  stock-in-trade  flows  over  on  to  the 
pavement.  The  toy  shops,  the  china  shops,  the  cake 
shops,  the  shops  for  women's  ribbons  and  hairpins  seem 
to  be  trying  to  turn  themselves  inside  out  Others  are 
so  reticent  that  nothing  appears  save  a  stretch  of  clean 
straw  mats,  where  sulky  clerks  sit  smoking  round  the 
hibachi  (fireboxes).  Then,  when  the  eye  gets  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  one  can  see  behind  them  the  ranks  of 
the  tea-jars  of  Uji,  or  layers  of  dark  kimono  stuff. 

The  character  of  the  shops  changed  as  *he  Harringtons 
and  their  party  approached  their  destination.  The  native 
element  predominated  more  and  more.  The  wares  be- 
came more  and  more  inexplicable.  There  were  shops  in 
which  gold  Buddhas  shone  and  brass  Jamps  for  temple 
use,  shops  displaying  queer  utensils  and  mysterious  little 
bits  of  things,  whose  secret  was  hidden  in  the  cabalistic 
signs  of  Chinese  script.  There  were  stalls  of  curios, 
and  second-hand  goods  spread  out  on  the  pavement, 
under  the  custody  of  wizened,  inattentive  old  men,  who 
squatted  and  smoked. 

Red-faced  maids  stared  at  the  foreigners  from  the 
balconies  of  lofty  inns  and  eating-houses  near  Uyeno 
station.  Further  on,  they  passed  the  silence  of  old  temple 
walls,  the  spaciousness  of  pigeon-haunted  cloisters,  and 
the  huge  high-pitched  roofs  of  the  shrines,  with  their 
twisted  horn-like  points.  Then,  down  a  narrow  alley 
appeared  the  garish  banners  of  the  Asakusa  theatres  and 
cinema  palaces.  They  heard  the  yelling  of  the  door-touts, 
and  the  bray  of  discordant  muf  ic.  They  caught  a  glimpse 
of  hideous  placards  whose  crude  illustrations  showed 
the  quality  of  the  performance  to  be  seen  within,  girls 
falling  from  aeroplanes,  demon  ghosts  with  bloody  dag- 
gers, melodrama  unleashed. 

Everywhere  the  same  crowds  loitered  along  the  pave- 
ments. No  hustle,  no  appearance  of  business  save  where 
a  messenger-boy  threaded  the  maze  on  a  break-neck 


THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN  119 

bicycle,  or  where  a  dull-faced  coolie  pulled  at  an  over- 
loaded barrow.  Grey  and  brown,  the  crowd  clattered 
by  on  their  wooden  shoes.  Grey  and  black,  passed  the 
haikara  young  men  with  their  yellow  side-spring  shoes. 
Black  and  sabre-dragging,  the  policeman  went  to  and 
fro,  invisibly  moored  to  his  wooden  sentry-box. 

The  only  bright  notes  among  all  these  drab  multitudes 
were  the  little  girls  in  their  variegated  kimonos,  who 
fluttered  in  and  out  of  the  entrances,  and  who  played 
unscolded  on  the  footpaths.  These  too  were  the  only 
notes  of  happiness ;  for  their  grown-up  relatives,  especi- 
ally the  women,  carried  an  air,  if  not  an  actual  expression, 
of  animal  melancholy,  the  melancholy  of  driven  sheep  or 
of  cows  ruminant. 

The  crowds  were  growing  denser.  Their  faces  were 
all  set  in  one  direction.  At  last  the  whole  roadway  was 
filled  with  the  slow-moving  tide.  The  Barringtons  and 
their  friends  had  to  alight  from  their  car  and  continue 
the  rest  of  the  way  on  foot. 

"They  are  all  going  to  see  the  show,"  Reggie  explained 
to  his  party,  and  he  pointed  to  a  line  of  high  nouses, 
which  stood  out  above  the  low  native  huts.  It  was  a 
square  block  of  building  some  hundreds  of  yards  long, 
quite  foreign  in  character,  having  the  appearance  of 
factory  buildings,  or  of  a  barracks  or  workhouse. 

"What  a  dismal-looking  place !"  said  Asako. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Reggie,  "but  at  night  it  is  much  brighter. 
It  is  all  lit  up  from  top  to  bottom.  It  is  called  the  Night- 
less  City." 

"What  bad  faces  these  people  have !"  said  Asako,  who 
was  romantically  set  on  seeing  evil  everywhere,  "Is  it 
quite  safe?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  their  guide,  "Japanese  crowds  are  very 
orderly." 

Indeed  they  suffered  no  inconvenience  from  the  crowd 
beyond  much  staring,  an  ordeal  which  awaits  the 
foreigner  in  all  corners  of  Tokyo. 

They  had  reached  a  very  narrow  street,  where  raffish 
beer-shops  were  doing  a  roaring  trade.  They  caught  a 


120  KIMONO 

glimpse  of  dirty  table-cloths  and  powdered  waitresses 
wearing  skirts,  aprons  and  lumpy  shoes — all  very 
haikara.  On  the  right  hand  they  passed  a  little  temple 
from  whose  exiguous  courtyard  two  stone  foxes  grinned 
maliciously,  the  temple  of  the  god  Inari,  who  brings 
rich  lovers  to  the  girls  who  pray  to  him. 

They  passed  through  iron  gates,  like  the  gates  of  a 
park,  where  two  policemen  were  posted  to  regulate  the 
traffic.  Beyond  was  a  single  line  of  cherry-trees  in  full 
bloom,  a  single  wave  of  pinkish  spray,  a  hanging  curtain 
of  vapourous  beauty,  the  subject  of  a  thousand  poems, 
of  a  thousand  allusions,  licentious,  delicate  and  trite, — 
the  cherry-blossoms  of  the  Yoshiwara. 

At  a  street  corner  stood  a  high  white  building  plastered 
with  golden  letters  in  Japanese  and  English — "Asahi 
Beer  Hall." 

"That  is  the  place,"  said  Yae,  "let  us  get  out  of  this 
crowd." 

They  found  refuge  among  more  dirty  table-cloths, 
Europeanised  wousmes,  and  gaping  guests.  When  Yae 
spoke  to  the  girls  in  Japanese,  there  was  much  bowing 
and  hissing  of  the  breath;  and  they  were  invited  upstairs 
on  to  the  first  floor  where  was  another  beer-hall,  slightly 
more  exclusive-looking  than  the  downstair  Gambrinus. 
Here  a  table  and  chairs  were  set  for  them  in  the  embra- 
sure of  a  bow-window,  which,  protruding  over  the  cross- 
roads, commanded  an  admirable  view  of  the  converging 
streets. 

"The  procession  won't  be  here  for  two  hours  more," 
said  Yae,  pouting  her  displeasure. 

"One  always  has  to  wait  in  Japan,"  said  Reggie.  "No- 
body ever  knows  exactly  when  anything  is  going  to 
happen;  and  so  the  Japanese  just  wait  and  wait.  They 
seem  to  like  it  rather.  Anyhow  they  don't  get  impatient. 
Life  is  so  uneventful  here  that  I  think  they  must  like 
prolonging  an  incident  as  much  as  possible,  like  sucking 
a  sweet  slowly." 

Meanwhile  there  was  plenty  to  look  at.    Asako  could 


THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN  121 

not  get  over  her  shock  at  the  sea  of  wicked  faces  which 
surged  below. 

"What  class  of  people  are  these?"  Geoffrey  asked. 

"Oh,  shop-people,  I  think,  most  of  them,"  said  Yae, 
"and  people  who  work  in  factories." 

"Good  class  Japanese  don't  come  here,  then?"  Geoffrey 
asked  again. 

"Oh  no,  only  low  class  people  and  students.  Japanese 
people  say  it  is  a  shameful  thing  to  go  to  the  Yoshiwara. 
And,  if  they  go,  they  go  very  secretly." 

"Do  you  know  any  one  who  goes?"  asked  Reggie,  with 
a  directness  which  shocked  his  friend's  sense  of  Good 
Form. 

"Oh,  my  brothers,"  said  Yae,  "but  they  go  everywhere  ; 
or  they  say  they  do." 


It  certainly  was  an  ill-favoured  crowd.  The  Japanese 
are  not  an  ugly  race.  The  young  aristocrat  who  has 
grown  up  with  fresh  air  and  healthy  exercise  is  often 
good-looking,  and  sometimes  distinguished  and  refined. 
But  the  lower  classes,  those  who  keep  company  with 
poverty,  dirt  and  pawnshops,  with  the  pleasures  of  the 
sake  barrel  and  the  Yoshiwara,  are  the  ugliest  beings 
that  were  ever  created  in  the  image  of  their  misshapen 
gods.  Their  small  stature  and  ape-like  attitudes,  the 
colour  and  discolour  of  their  skin,  the  flat  Mongolian 
nose,  their  gaping  mouths  and  bad  teeth,  the  coarse 
fibre  of  their  lustreless  black  hair,  give  them  an  elvish  and 
a  goblin  look,  as  though  this  country  were  a  nursery  for 
fairy  changelings,  a  land  of  the  Nibelungen,  where  bad 
thoughts  have  found  their  incarnation.  Yet  the  faces 
have  not  got  that  character  for  good  and  evil  as  we  find 
them  among  the  Aryan  peoples,  the  deep  lines  and  the 
firm  profiles. 

"It  is  the  absence  of  something  rather  than  its  presence 
which  appals  and  depresses  us,"  Reggie  Forsyth  ob- 
served, "an  absence  of  happiness  perhaps,  or  of  a  promise 
of  happiness.** 


122  KIMONO 

The  crowd  which  filled  the  four  roads  with  its  slow 
grey  tide  was  peaceable  enough ;  and  it  was  strangely 
silent.  The  drag  and  clatter  of  the  clogs  made  more 
sound  than  the  human  voices.  The  great  majority  were 
men,  though  there  were  women  among  them,  quiet  and 
demure.  If  ever  a  voice  was  lifted,  one  could  see  by  the 
rolling  walk  and  the  fatuous  smile  that  its  owner  had 
been  drinking.  Such  a  person  would  be  removed  out  of 
sight  by  his  friends.  The  Japanese  generally  go  sight- 
seeing and  merry-making  in  friendships  and  companies ; 
and  the  Verein,  which  in  Japan  is  called  the  Kwai,  flour- 
ishes here  as  in  Germany. 

Two  coolies  started  quarreling  under  the  Harringtons' 
window.  They  too  had  been  drinking.  They  did  not  hit 
out  at  each  other  like  Englishmen,  but  started  an  inter- 
change of  abuse  in  gruff  monosj'llables  and  indistinguish- 
able grunts  and  snorts. 

"Bakal    Chikiishome!    Kuso!    (Fool!   Beast!   Dung!)" 

These  amenities  exasperating  their  ill  humour,  they 
began  to  pull  at  each  other's  coats  and  to  jostle  each 
other  like  quarrelsome  curs.  This  was  a  sign  that  affairs 
were  growing  serious ;  and  the  police  intervened.  Again 
each  combatant  was  pushed  away  by  his  companions  into 
opposite  byways. 

With  these  exceptions,  all  tramplings,  squeezings,  push- 
ings  and  pokings  were  received  with  conventional  grins 
or  apathetic  staring.  Yet  in  the  paper  next  day  it  was 
said  that  so  great  had  been  the  crowd  that  six  deaths 
had  occurred,  and  numerous  persons  had  fainted. 

"But  where  is  the  Yoshiwara?"  Geoffrey  asked  at  last. 
"Where  are  these  wretched  women  kept?" 

Reggie  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  three 
roads  facing  them. 

"Inside  the  iron  gates,  that  is  all  the  Yoshiwara,  and 
those  high  houses  and  the  low  ones  too.  That  is  where 
the  girls  are.  There  are  two  or  three  thousand  of  them 
within  sight,  as  it  were,  from  here.  But,  of  course,  the 
night  time  is  the  time  to  see  them." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Geoffrey  vaguely. 


THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN  123 

"They  sit  in  shop  windows,  one  might  say,"  Reggie 
went  on,  "only  with  bars  in  front  like  cages  in  the  Zoo. 
And  they  wear  gorgeous  kimonos,  red  and  gold  and  blue, 
and  embroidered  with  flowers  and  dragons.  It  is  like 
nothing  I  can  think  of,  except  aviaries  full  of  wonderful 
parrakeets  and  humming-birds." 

"Are  they  pretty?"  Asako  asked. 

"No,  I  can't  say  they  are  pretty ;  and  they  all  seem 
very  much  alike  to  the  mere  Westerner.  I  can't  imagine 
any  body  picking  out  one  of  them  and  saying,  'I  love  her' 
— 'she  is  the  loveliest.'  There  is  a  fat,  impassive  type  like 
Buddha.  There  is  a  foxy  animated  type  which  exchanges 
badinage  with  the  young  nuts  through  the  bars  of  her 
cage ;  and  there  is  a  merely  ugly  lumpy  type,  a  kind 
of  cloddish  country-girl  who  exists  in  all  countries.  But 
the  more  exclusive  houses  don't  display  their  women. 
One  can  only  see  a  row  of  photographs.  No  doubt  they 
are  very  flattering  to  their  originals." 

Asako  was  staring  at  the  buildings  now,  at  the  high 
square  prison  houses,  and  at  the  low  native  roofs.  These 
had  each  its  little  platform,  its  monohoshi,  where  much 
white  washing  was  drying  in  the  sun. 

At  the  farther  end  of  one  street  a  large  stucco  build- 
ing, with  a  Grecian  portico,  stood  athwart  the  thorough- 
fare. 

"What  is  that?"  said  Asako;  "it  looks  like  a  church." 

"That  is  the  hospital,"  answered  Reggie. 

"But  why  is  there  a  hospital  here?"  she  asked  again. 

Yae  Smith  smiled  ever  so  little  at  her  new  friend's 
ignorance  of  the  wages  of  sin.  But  nobody  answered 
the  question. 


There  was  a  movement  in  the  crowd,  a  pushing  back 
from  some  unseen  locality,  like  the  jolting  of  railway 
trucks.  At  the  same  time  there  was  a  craning  of  necks 
and  a  murmur  of  interest. 


124  KIMONO 

In  the  street  opposite,  the  crowd  was  opening  down 
the  centre.  The  police,  who  had  sprung  up  everywhere 
like  the  crop  of  the  dragons'  teeth,  were  dividing  the 
people.  And  then,  down  the  path  so  formed,  came  the 
strangest  procession  which  Geoffrey  Harrington  had  ever 
seen  on  or  off  the  stage. 

High  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd  appeared  what 
seemed  to  be  a  life-size  automaton,  a  moving  waxwork 
magnificently  garbed  in  white  brocade  with  red  and  gold 
embroidery  of  phenixes,  and  a  .huge  red  sash  tied  in  a 
bow  in  front.  The  hem  of  the  skirt,  turned  up  with  red 
and  thickly  wadded,  revealed  a  series  of  these  garments 
fitting  beneath  each  other,  like  the  leaves  of  an  arti- 
choke. Under  a  monumental  edifice  of  hair,  bristling  like 
a  hedgehog  with  amber-coloured  pins  and  with  silver 
spangles  and  rosettes,  a  blank,  impassive  little  face  was 
staring  straight  in  front  of  it,  utterly  expressionless, 
utterly  unnatural,  hidden  beneath  the  glaze  of  enamel — 
the  china  face  of  a  doll. 

It  parted  the  grey  multitude  like  a  pillar  of  light.  It 
tottered  forward  slowly,  for  it  was  lifted  above  the  crowd 
on  a  pair  of  black-lacquered  clogs  as  high  as  stilts, 
dangerous  and  difficult  to  manipulate.  On  each  side  were 
two  little  figures,  similarly  painted,  similarly  bedizened, 
similarly  expressionless,  children  of  nine  or  ten  years 
only,  the  komuro,  the  little  waiting-women.  They  served 
to  support  the  reigning  beauty  and  at  the  same  time 
to  display  her  long  embroidered  sleeves,  outstretched 
on  either  side  like  wings. 

The  brilliant  figure  and  her  two  attendants  moved 
forward  under  the  shade  of  a  huge  ceremonial  umbrella 
of  yellow  oiled  paper,  which  looked  like  a  membrane  or 
like  old  vellum,  and  upon  which  were  written  in  Chinese 
characters  the  personal  name  of  the  lady  chosen  for  the 
honour  and  the  name  of  the  house  in  which  she  was 
an  inmate.  The  shaft  of  this  umbrella,  some  eight  or 
nine  feet  long,  was  carried  by  a  sinister  being,  clothed  in 
the  blue  livery  of  the  Japanese  artisan,  a  kind  of  tabard 


THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN  125 

with  close-fitting  trousers.  He  kept  twisting  the  umbrel- 
la-shaft all  the  time  with  a  gyrating  movement  to  and 
fro,  which  imparted  to  the  disc  of  the  umbrella  the  hesita- 
tion of  a  wave.  He  followed  the  Queen  with  a  strange 
slow  stride.  For  long  seconds  he  would  pause  with  one 
foot  held  aloft  in  the  attitude  of  a  high-stepping  horse, 
which,  distorted  his  dwarfish  body  into  a  diabloic  convul- 
sion, like  Diirer's  angel  of  horror.  He  seemed  a  familiar 
spirit,  a  mocking  devil,  the  wicked  Spielmann  of  the 
"Miracle"  play,  whose  harsh  laughter  echoes  through 
the  empty  room  when  the  last  cup  is  emptied,  the 
last  shilling  gone,  and  the  dreamer  awakes  from  his 
dream. 

Behind  him  followed  five  or  six  men  carrying  large 
oval  lanterns,  also  inscribed  with  the  name  of  the  house; 
and  after  them  came  a  representative  collection  of  the 
officials  of  the  proud  establishment,  a  few  foxy  old 
women  and  a  crowd  of  swaggering  men,  spotty  and 
vicious-looking.  The  Orian  (Chief  Courtesan)  reached 
the  cross-roads.  There,  as  if  moved  by  machinery  or 
magnetism,  she  slowly  turned  to  the  left.  She  made 
her  way  towards  one  of  a  row  of  small,  old-fashioned 
native  houses,  on  the  road  down  which  the  Barringtons 
had  come.  Here  the  umbrella  was  lowered.  The  beauty 
bowed  her  monumental  head  to  pass  under  the  low  door- 
way, and  settled  herself  on  a  pile  of  cushions  prepared 
to  receive  her. 

Almost  at  once  the  popular  interest  was  diverted  to 
the  appearance  of  another  procession,  precisely  similar, 
which  was  debouching  from  the  opposite  road.  The  new 
Orian  garbed  in  blue,  with  a  sash  of  gold  and  a  design 
of  cherry-blossom,  supported  by  her  two  little  atten- 
dants, wobbled  towards  another  of  the  little  houses. 
On  her  disappearing  a  third  procession  came  into 
sight. 

"Ah!"  sighed  Asako,  "what  lovely  kimonos!  Where 
do  they  get  them  from?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ya6,  "some  of  them  are  quite 


126  KIMONO 

old.  They  come  out  fresh  year  after  year  for  a  different 
girl." 

Yae,  with  her  distorted  little  soul,  was  thinking  that 
it  must  be  worth  the  years  of  slavery  and  the  humilia- 
tion of  disease  to  have  that  one  day  of  complete  triumph, 
to  be  the  representative  of  Beauty  upon  earth,  to  feel 
the  admiration  and  the  desire  of  that  vast  concourse  of 
men  rising  round  one's  body  like  a  warm  flood. 

Geoffrey  stared  fascinated,  wondering  to  see  the  fact 
of  prostitution  advertised  so  unblushingly  as  a  public 
spectacle,  his  hatred  and  contempt  breaking  over  the 
heads  of  the  swine-faced  men  who  followed  the  harlot, 
and  picked  their  livelihood  out  of  her  shame. 

Reggie  was  wondering  what  might  be  the  thoughts 
of  those  little  creatures  muffled  in  such  splendour  that 
their  personality,  like  that  of  infant  queens,  was  en- 
tirely hidden  by  the  significance  of  what  they  symbol- 
ized. Not  a  smile,  not  a  glance  of  recognition  passed 
over  the  unnatural  whiteness  of  their  faces.  Yet  they 
could  not  be,  as  they  appeared  to  be,  sleep-walkers.  Were 
they  proud  to  wear  such  finery?  Were  they  happy  to  be 
so  acclaimed?  Did  their  heart  beat  for  one  man,  or  did 
their  vanity  drink  in  the  homage  of  all?  Did  their  mind 
turn  back  to  the  mortgaged  farm  and  the  work  in  the 
paddy-fields,  to  the  thriftless  shop  and  the  chatter  of  the 
little  town,  to  the  sake-sodden  father  who  had  sold  them 
in  the  days  of  their  innocence,  to  the  first  numbing 
shock  of  that  new  life?  Perhaps;  or  perhaps  they  were 
too  taken  up  with  maintaining  their  equilibrium  on  their 
high  shoes,  or  perhaps  they  thought  of  nothing  at  all. 
Reggie,  who  had  a  poor  opinion  of  the  intellectual  bright- 
ness of  uneducated  Japanese  women,  thought  that  the 
last  alternative  was  highly  probable. 

"I  wonder  what  those  little  houses  are  where  they 
pay  their  visits,"  Reggie  said. 

"Oh,  those  are  the  hikite  chaya,"  said  Yae  glibly,  "the 
Yoshiwara  tea-houses." 

"Do  they  live  there?"  asked  Asako. 

"Oh,  no ;  rich  men  who  come  to  the  Yoshiwara  do  not 


THE  YOSHIWARA  WOMEN  127 

go  to  the  big  houses  where  the  oiran  live.  They  go  to 
the  tea-houses ;  and  they  order  food  and  geisha  to  sing, 
and  the  oiran  to  be  brought  from  the  big  house.  It  is 
more  private.  So  the  tea-houses  are  called  hikite  chaya, 
'tea-houses  which  lead  by  the  hand.'  " 

"Yae,"  said  Reggie,  "you  know  a  lot  about  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Smith,  "my  brothers  have  told  me. 
They  tell  me  lots  of  things." 

After  a  stay  of  about  half  an  hour,  the  oiran  left  their 
tea-houses.  The  processions  reformed;  and  they  slowly 
tottered  back  to  the  places  whence  'they  had  come. 
Across  their  path  the  cherry  petals  were  already  falling 
like  snowflakes ;  for  the  cherry-blossom  is  the  Japanese 
symbol  of  the  impermanence  of  earthly  beauty,  and  of 
all  sweet  things  and  pleasant. 

"By  Jove !"  said  Geoffrey  Harrington  to  the  world  in 
general,  "that  was  an  extraordinary  sight.  East  is  East 
and  West  is  West,  eh?  I  never  felt  that  so  strongly 
before.  How  often  does  this  performance  take  place?" 

"This  performance,"  said  Reggie,  "has  taken  place  for 
three  days  every  Spring  for  the  last  three  hundred  years. 
But  it  is  more  than  doubtful  whether  it  will  ever  happen 
again.  It  is  called  Oiran  Dochu,  the  procession  of  the 
courtesans.  Geoffrey,  what  you  have  seen  to-day  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  the  Passing  of  Old  Japan !" 

"But  whom  do  these  women  belong  to?"  asked  Geof- 
frey. "And  who  is  making  money  out  of  all  this  filth?" 

"Various  people  and  companies,  I  suppose,  who  own 
the  different  houses,"  answered  Reggie.  "A  fellow  once 
offered  to  sell  me  his  whole  establishment,  bedding  and 
six  girls  for  £50  down.  But  he  must  have  been  having 
a  run  of  bad  luck.  In  most  countries  it  is  a  most  profit- 
able form  of  investment.  Do  you  remember  'Mrs.  War- 
ren's Profession'?  Thirty-five  per  cent  I  think  was  the 
exact  figure.  I  don't  suppose  Japan  is  any  exception." 

"By  Jove !"  said  Geoffrey.  "The  women,  poor  wretches, 
they  can't  help  themselves ;  and  the  men  who  buy  what 
they  sell,  one  can't  blame  them  either.  But  the  creatures 
who  make  fortunes  out  of  all  this  beastliness  and  cruelty, 


128  KIMONO 

I  say,  they  ought  to  be  flogged  round  the  place  with  a 
cat-o'-nine-tails  till  the  life  is  beaten  out  of  them.  Let's 
get  away  from  here!" 

As  they  left  the  beer-house  a  small  round  Japanese 
man  bobbed  up  from  the  crowd,  raised  his  hat,  bowed 
and  smiled.  It  was  Tanaka.  Geoffrey  had  left  him  be- 
hind on  purpose,  that  his  servants,  at  least,  might  not 
know  where  he  was  going. 

"I  think — I  meet  Ladyship  here,"  said  the  little  man, 
"but  for  long  time  I  do  not  spy  her.  I  am  very  sorry." 

"Is  anything  wrong?  Why  did  you  come?"  asked 
Geoffrey. 

"Good  samurai  never  leave  Lordship's  side.  Of  course, 
I  come,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  hurry  up  and  get  back,"  said  his  master,  "or  we 
shall  be  home  before  you." 

With  renewed  bowings  he  disappeared. 

Asako  was  laughing. 

"We  can  never  get  rid  of  Tanaka,"  she  said,  "can  we? 
He  follows  us  like  a  detective." 

"Sometimes  I  think  he  is  deliberately  spying  on  us," 
said  her  husband. 

"Cheer  up,"  said  Reggie,  "they  all  do  that." 

The  party  dispersed  at  the  Imperial  Hotel.  Asako  was 
laughing  and  happy.  She  had  enjoyed  herself  immensely 
as  usual ;  and  her  innocence  had  realized  little  or  nothing 
of  the  grim  significance  of  what  she  had  seen. 

But  Geoffrey  was  gloomy  and  distrait.  He  had  taken 
it  much  to  heart.  That  night  he  had  a  horrible  dream. 
The  procession  of  the  oiran  was  passing  once  more  before 
his  eyes ;  but  he  could  not  see  the  face  of  the  gorgeous 
doll  whom  all  these  crowds  had  come  out  to  admire.  He 
felt  strangely  apprehensive,  however.  Then  at  a  corner 
of  the  street  the  figure  turned  and  faced  him.  It  was 
Asako,  his  wife.  He  struggled  to  reach  her  and  save  her. 
But  the  crowds  of  Japanese  closed  in  upon  him ;  he 
struggled  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  GEISHA  DINNER 

Inishi  toshi  The  young  plum  tree 

Ne-kojite  uyesM  Of  my  house 

Waga  ypdo  no  Which  in  bygone  years 

Wakaki  no  ume  wa  I  dug  up  by  the  roots  and 

Hana  saki  ni  keri.  transplanted 

Has     at     last     bloomed     with 
flowers. 

NEXT  morning  Geoffrey  rose  earlier  than  was  his  wont; 
and  arrayed  in  one  of  his  many  kimonos,  entered  his 
sitting-room.  There  he  found  Tanaka,  wrapped  in  con- 
templation of  a  letter.  He  was  scrutinizing  it  with  an 
attention  which  seemed  to  pierce  the  envelope. 

"Who  is  it  from,  Tanaka?"  asked  Geoffrey;  he  had 
become  mildly  ironical  in  his  dealings  with  the  inquisitive 
guide. 

"I  think  perhaps  invitation  to  pleasure  party  from 
Ladyship's  noble  relatives,"  Tanaka  replied,  unabashed. 

Geoffrey  took  the  note  to  his  wife,  and  she  read  aloud : 

"DEAR  MR.  AND  MRS.  BARRINGTON— It  is  now  the  bright 
Spring  weather.  I  hope  you  to  enjoy  good  health.  I 
have  been  rude  thus  to  absent  myself  during  your  polite 
visit.  Much  pressing  business  has  hampered  me,  also 
stomach  trouble,  but  indeed  there  is  no  excuse.  Please 
not  to  be  angry.  This  time  I  hope  you  to  attend  a  poor 
feast,  Maple  Club  Hotel,  next  Tuesday,  six  p.m.  Hbping 
to  esteemed  favor  and  even  friend, 

Yours  obedient, 

G.  FUJINAMI." 

"What  exactly  does  he  mean?" 

"As  Tanaka  says,  it  is  an  invitation  to  a  pleasure  party 
at  the  beginning  of  next  week." 

129 


130  KIMONO 

"Answer  it,  sweetheart,"  said  Geoffrey ;  "tell  them  that 
we  are  not  angry,  and  that  we  shall  be  delighted  to 
accept." 

Tanaka  explained  that  the  Maple  Club  Restaurant  or 
Koyokwan,  which  more  strictly  should  be  translated 
Hall  of  the  Red  Leaf,  is  the  largest  and  most  famous  of 
Tokyo  "tea-houses" — to  use  a  comprehensive  term  which 
applies  equally  to  a  shack  by  the  roadside,  and  to  a  dainty 
pleasure  resort  where  entertainments  run  easily  into  four 
or  five  pounds  per  head.  There  are  restaurants  more  se- 
cretive and  more  elite,  where  the  aesthetic  gourmet  may 
feel  more  at  ease  and  where  the  bohemian  spirit  can 
loose  its  wit.  But  for  public  functions  of  all  kinds,  for 
anything  on  a  really  big  scale,  the  Maple  Club  stands 
alone.  It  is  the  "Princes"  of  Tokyo  with  a  flavour  of  the 
Guildhall  steaming  richly  through  its  corridors.  Here 
the  great  municipal  dinners  take  place,  the  great  political 
entertainments.  Here  famous  foreigners  are  officially 
introduced  to  the  mysteries  of  Japanese  cuisine  and  the 
charms  of  Japanese  geisha.  Here  hangs  a  picture  of 
Lord  Kitchener  himself,  scrambled  over  by  laughing 
mousmes,  who  seem  to  be  peeping  out  of  his  pockets  and 
buttonholes,  a  Gulliver  in  Lilliput. 

Both  Geoffrey  and  Asako  had  treated  the  invitation  as 
a  joke ;  but  at  the  last  moment,  while  they  were  thread- 
ing the  mysterious  streets  of  the  still  unfamiliar  city, 
they  both  confessed  to  a  certain  nervousness.  They 
were  on  the  brink  of  a  plunge  into  depths  unknown. 
They  knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  customs,  tastes 
and  prejudices  of  the  people  with  whom  they  were  to 
mix — not  even  their  names  and  their  language. 

"Well,  we're  in  for  it,"  said  Geoffrey,  "we  must  see  it 
through  now." 

They  drove  up  a  steep  gravel  drive  and  stopped  before 
a  broad  Japanese  entrance,  three  wide  steps  like  altar 
stairs  leading  up  to  a  dark  cavernous  hall  full  of  bowing 
women  and  men  in  black  clothes,  similar,  silent  and 
ghostlike.  The  first  impression  was  lugubrious,  like  a 
feast  of  mutes. 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  131 

Boots  off!  Geoffrey  knew  at  least  this  rule  number 
one  in  Japanese  etiquette.  But  who  were  these  flutter- 
ing women,  so  attentive  in  removing  their  cloaks  and 
hats?  Were  they  relatives  or  waitresses?  And  the  silent 
groups  beyond?  Were  they  Fujinami  or  waiters?  The 
two  guests  had  friendly  smiles  for  all;  but  they  gazed 
helplessly  for  a  familiar  face. 

An  apparition  in  evening  dress  with  a  long  frock  coat 
and  a  purple  tie  emerged  from  that  grim  chorus  of  spec- 
tators. It  was  Ito,  the  lawyer.  The  free  and  easy 
American  manner  was  checked  by  the  responsibility  of 
those  flapping  coat-tails.  He  looked  and  behaved  just 
like  a  shop-walker.  After  a  stiff  bow  and  handshake  he 
said: 

"Very  pleased  to  see  you,  Sir,  and  Mrs.  Barrington, 
also.  The  Fujinami  family  is  proud  to  make  your  enter- 
tainment." 

Geoffrey  expected  further  introductions ;  but  the  time 
had  not  yet  come.  With  a  wave  of  the  arm  Mr.  Ito 
added : 

"Please  step  this  way,  Sir  and  Lady." 

The  Barringtons  with  Ito  led  the  procession;  and  the 
mutes  closed  in  behind  them.  Down  endless  polished 
corridors  they  passed  with  noiseless  steps  over  the  spot- 
less boards.  The  only  sound  was  the  rustling  of  silk 
garments.  To  closed  eyes  they  might  have  seemed  like 
the  arrival  of  a  company  of  dowagers.  The  women,  who 
had  at  first  received  them,  were  still  fluttering  around 
them  like  humming-birds  escorting  a  flight  of  crows.  To 
one  of  them  Geoffrey  owed  his  preservation.  He  would 
have  struck  his  forehead  against  a  low  doorway  in  the 
darkness ;  but  she  touched  the  lintel  with  her  finger  and 
then  laid  her  tiny  hand  on  Barrington's  tall  shoulder, 
laughing  and  saying  in  infantile  English: 

"English  danna  son  very  high!" 

They  came  to  a  sudden  opening  between  paper  walls. 
In  a  little  room  behind  a  table  stood  a  middle-aged  Jap- 
anese couple  as  stiff  as  waxworks.  For  an  instant  Geof- 


132  KIMONO 

frey  thought  they  must  be  the  cloakroom  attendants. 
Then,  to  his  surprise,  Ito  announced: 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fujinami  Gentaro,  the  head  of  the 
Fujinami  family.  Please  walk  in  and  shake  hands." 

Geoffrey  and  his  wife  did  as  they  were  directed.  Three 
mutual  bowings  took  place  in  absolute  silence,  followed 
by  a  handshake.  Then  Ito  said: 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fujinami  Gentaro  wish  to  say  they  are 
very  pleased  you  both  come  to-night.  It  is  very  poor 
food  and  very  poor  feast,  they  say.  Japanese  food  is 
very  simple  sort  of  thing.  But  they  ask  you  please  ex- 
cuse them,  for  what  they  have  done  they  have  done 
from  a  good  heart." 

Geoffrey  was  mumbling  incoherently,  and  wondering 
whether  he  was  expected  to  reply  to  this  oration,  when 
Ito  again  exclaimed,  "Please  step  this  way." 

They  passed  into  a  large  room  like  a  concert  hall  with 
a  stage  at  one  end.  There  were  several  men  squatting 
on  the  floor  round  hibachi  smoking  and  drinking  beer. 
They  looked  like  black  sheep  browsing. 

These  were  joined  by  the  mutes  who  followed  the  Bar- 
ringtons.  All  of  these  people  were  dressed  exactly  alike. 
They  wore  white  socks,  a  dark  kimono  almost  hidden  by 
the  black  cloak  upon  which  the  family  crest — a  wreath 
of  wisteria  (fuji)  foliage — shone  like  a  star  on  sleeves 
and  neck,  and  by  the  fluted  yellowish  skirt  of  heavy 
rustling  silk.  This  dress,  though  gloomy  and  sacerdotal, 
was  dignified  and  becoming ;  but  the  similarity  was 
absurd.  It  looked  like  a  studied  effect  at  a  fancy  dress 
ball.  It  was  particularly  exasperating  to  the  guests  of 
honour  who  were  anxious  to  distinguish  their  relatives 
and  to  know  them  apart ;  but  Ito  alone,  with  his  Euro- 
pean clothes  and  his  purple  tie,  was  conspicuous  and  un- 
mistakable. 

"He  is  like  Mrs.  Jarley,"  thought  Geoffrey,  "he  ex- 
plains the  waxworks." 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  little  group  of  chairs 
of  the  weary  beast  of  burden  type,  which  are  requisi- 
tioned for  public  meetings.  Two  of  them  were  dignified 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  133 

by  cushions  of  crimson  plush.  These  were  for  Geoffrey 
and  Asako. 

Among  the  black  sheep  there  was  no  movement  beyond 
the  steady  staring  of  some  thirty  pairs  of  eyes.  When 
the  Harringtons  had  been  enthroned,  the  host  and  hostess 
approached  them  with  silent  dragging  steps  and  down- 
cast faces.  They  might  have  been  the  bearers  of  evil 
tidings.  A  tall  girl  followed  behind  her  parents. 

Mrs.  Fujinami  Shidzuye  and  her  daughter,  Sadako, 
were  the  only  women  present.  This  was  a  compromise, 
and  a  consideration  for  Asako's  feelings.  Mr.  Ito  had 
proposed  that  since  a  lady  was  the  chief  guest  of  honour, 
therefore  all  the  Fujinami  ladies  ought  to  be  invited  to 
meet  her.  To  Mr.  Fujinami's  strict  conservative  mind 
such  an  idea  was  anathema.  What!  Wives  at  a  ban- 
quet !  In  a  public  restaurant !  With  geisha  present !  Ab- 
surd— and  disgusting!  O  temporal  O  mores! 

Then,  argued  the  lawyer,  Asako  must  not  be  invited. 
But  Asako  was  the  clou  of  the  evening;  and  besides,  an 
English  gentleman  would  be  insulted  if  his  wife  were  not 
invited  too.  And — as  Mr.  Ito  went  on  to  urge — any 
woman,  Japanese  or  foreign,  would  be  ill-at-ease  in  a 
company  composed  entirely  of  men.  Besides  Sadako 
could  speak  English  so  well ;  it  was  so  convenient  that 
she  should  come ;  and  under  her  mother's  care  her  morals 
would  not  be  contaminated  by  the  propinquity  of  geisha. 
So  Mr.  Fujinami  gave  in  so  far  as  concerned  his  own 
wife  and  daughter. 

Shidzuye  San,  as  befitted  a  matron  of  sober  years, 
wore  a  plain  black  kimono;  but  Sadako's  dress  was  of 
pale  mauve  color,  with  a  bronze  sash  tied  in  an  enormous 
bow.  Her  hair  was  parted  on  one  side  and  caught  up  in 
a  bun  behind — the  latest  haikara  fashion  and  a  tribute 
to  the  foreign  guests.  Hers  was  a  graceful  figure ;  but 
her  expression  was  spoiled  by  the  blue-tinted  spectacles 
which  completely  hid  her  features. 

"Miss  Sadako  Fujinami,  daughter  of  Mr.  Fujinami 
Gentaro,"  said  Ito.  "She  has  been  University  under- 
graduate, and  she  speaks  English  quite  well." 


134  KIMONO 

Miss  Sadako  bowed  three  times.  Then  she  said,  "How 
do  you  do"  in  a  high  unnatural  voice. 

The  room  was  filling  up  with  the  little  humming-bird 
women  who  had  been  present  at  the  entrance.  They 
were  handing  cigarettes  and  tea  cups  to  the  guests.  They 
looked  bright  and  pleasant ;  and  they  interested  Geoffrey. 

"Are  these  ladies  relatives  of  the  Fujinami  family?" 
he  asked  Ito. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  the  lawyer  gasped;  "you  have 
made  great  mistake,  Mr.  Barrington.  Japanese  ladies  all 
left  at  home,  never  go  to  restaurant.  These  girls  are  no 
ladies,  they're  geisha  girls.  Geisfia  girls  very  famous  to 
foreign  persons." 

Geoffrey  knew  that  he  had  made  his  first  faux  pas. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Ito,  "please  step  this  way;  we  go 
upstairs  to  the  feast  room." 

The  dining-room  seemed  larger  still  than  the  reception 
room.  Down  each  side  of  it  were  aranged  two  rows  of 
red  lacquer  tables,  each  about  eighteen  inches  high  and 
eighteen  inches  square.  Mysterious  little  dishes  were 
placed  on  each  side  of  these  tables ;  the  most  conspicu- 
ous was  a  flat  reddish  fish  with  a  large  eye,  artistically 
served  in  a  rollicking  attitude,  which  in  itself  was  an 
invitation  to  eat. 

The  English  guests  were  escorted  to  two  seats  at  the 
extreme  end  of  the  room,  where  two  tables  were  laid 
in  isolated  glory.  They  were  to  sit  there  like  king  and 
queen,  with  two  rows  of  their  subjects  in  long  aisles  to 
the  right  and  to  the  left  of  them. 

The  seats  were  cushions  merely;  but  those  placed  for 
Geoffrey  and  Asako  were  raised  on  low  hassocks.  After 
them  the  files  of  the  Fujinami  streamed  in  and  took  up 
their  appointed  positions  along  the  sides  of  the  room. 
They  were  followed  by  the  geisha,  each  girl  carrying  a 
little  white  china  bottle  shaped  like  a  vegetable  marrow, 
and  a  tiny  cup  like  the  bath  which  hygienic  old  maids 
provide  for  their  canary  birds. 

"Japanese  sake"  said  Sadako  to  her  cousin,  "you  do 
not  like?" 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  135 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  replied  Asako,  who  was  intent  on  en- 
joying everything.  But  on  this  occasion  she  had  chosen 
the  wrong  answer ;  for  real  ladies  in  Japan  are  not  sup- 
posed to  drink  the  warm  rice  wine. 

The  geisha  certainly  looked  most  charming  as  they 
slowly  advanced  in  a  kind  of  ritualistic  procession.  Their 
feet  like  little  white  mice,  the  dragging  skirts  of  their 
spotless  kimonos,  their  exaggerated  care  and  precision, 
and  their  stiff  conventional  attitudes  presented  a  picture 
from  a  Satsuma  vase.  Their  dresses  were  of  all  shades, 
black,  blue,  purple,  grey  and  mauve.  The  corner  of  the 
skirt  folded  back  above  the  instep  revealed  a  glimpse  of 
gaudy  underwear  provoking  to  men's  eyes,  and  displayed 
the  intricate  stenciled  flower  patterns,  which  in  the  case 
of  the  younger  women  seemed  to  be  catching  hold  of  the 
long  sleeves  and  straying  upwards.  Little  dancing  girls, 
thirteen  and  fourteen  years  old — the  so-called  hangyoku 
or  half  jewels — accompanied  their  elder  sisters  of  the 
profession.  They  wore  very  bright  dresses  just  like  the 
dolls ;  and  their  massive  coiffure  was  bedizened  with  sil- 
ver spangles  and  elaborately  artificial  flowers. 

"Oh!"  gasped  the  admiring  Asako,  "I  must  get  one  of 
those  geisha  girls  to  show  me  how  to  wear  my  kimonos 
properly;  they  do  look  smart." 

"I  do  not  think,"  answered  Sadako.  "These  are  vulgar 
women,  bad  style ;  I  will  teach  you  the  noble  way." 

But  all  the  geisha  had  a  grave  and  dignified  look,  quite 
different  from  the  sprightly  butterflies  of  musical  comedy 
from  whom  Geoffrey  had  accepted  his  knowledge  of 
Japan. 

They  knelt  down  before  the  guests  and  poured  a  little 
of  the  sake  into  the  shallow  saucer  held  out  for  their  min- 
istrations. Then  they  folded  their  hands  in  their  laps 
and  appeared  to  slumber. 

A  sucking  sound  ran  round  the  room  as  the  first  cup 
was  drained.  Then  a  complete  silence  fell,  broken  only 
by  the  shuffle  of  the  girls'  feet  on  the  matting  as  they 
went  to  fetch  more  bottles. 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  spoke  to  the  guests  assembled, 


136  KIMONO 

bidding  them  commence  their  meal,  and  not  to  stand 
upon  ceremony. 

"It  is  like  the  one — two — three — go!  at  a  race," 
thought  Geoffrey. 

All  the  guests  were  manipulating  their  chopsticks. 
Geoffrey  raised  his  own  pair.  The  two  slender  rods  of 
wood  were  unparted  at  one  end  to  show  that  they  had 
never  been  used.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to  pull 
them  in  two.  As  he  did  so  a  tiny  splinter  of  wood  like  a 
match  fell  from  between  them. 

Asako  laughed. 

"That  is  the  toothpick,"  cousin  Sadako  explained.  "We 
call  such  chopsticks  komochi-hashi,  chopstick  with  baby, 
because  the  toothpick  inside  the  chopstick  like  the  baby 
inside  the  mother.  Very  funny,  I  think." 

There  were  two  kinds  of  soup — excellent ;  there  was 
cooked  fish  and  raw  fish  in  red  and  white  slices,  chastely 
served  with  ice ;  there  were  vegetables  known  and  un- 
known, such  as  sweet  potatoes,  French  beans,  lotus  stems 
and  bamboo  shoots.  These  had  to  be  eaten  with  the  aid 
of  the  chopsticks — a  difficult  task  when  it  came  to  cut- 
ting up  the  wing  of  a  chicken  or  balancing  a  soft  poached 

egg- 

The  guests  did  not  eat  with  gusto.  They  toyed  with 
the  food,  sipping  wine  all  the  time,  smoking  cigarettes 
and  picking  their  teeth. 

Geoffrey,  according  to  his  own  description,  was  just 
getting  his  eye  in,  when  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  rose  from 
his  humble  place  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  In  a  speech 
full  of  poetical  quotations,  which  must  have  cost  his 
tame  students  considerable  trouble  in  the  composition, 
he  welcomed  Asako  Harrington,  who,  he  said,  had  been 
restored  to  Japan  like  a  family  jewel  which  has  been  lost 
and  is  found.  He  compared  her  visit  to  the  sudden  flow- 
ering of  an  ancient  tree.  This  did  not  seem  very  compli- 
mentary;  however,  it  referred  not  to  the  lady's  age  but 
to  the  elder  branch  of  the  family  which  she  represented. 
After  many  apologies  for  the  tastelessness  of  the  food 
and  the  stupidity  of  the  entertainment,  he  proposed  the 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  137 

health  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harrington,  which  was  drunk  by 
the  whole  company  standing. 

Ito  produced  from  his  pocket  a  translation  of  this 
oration. 

"Now  please  say  a  few  words  in  reply,"  he  directed. 

Geoffrey,  feeling  acutely  ridiculous,  scrambled  to  his 
feet  and  thanked  everybody  for  giving  his  wife  and  him- 
self such  a  jolly  good  time.  Ito  translated. 

"Now  please  command  to  drink  health  of  the  Fujinami 
family,"  said  the  lawyer,  consulting  his  agenda.  So  the 
health  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fujinami  Gentaro  was  drunk  with 
relish  by  everybody,  including  the  lady  and  gentleman 
honoured. 

"In  this  country,"  thought  Geoffrey,  "one  gets  the 
speechmaking  over  before  the  dinner.  Not  a  bad  idea. 
It  saves  that  nervous  feeling  which  spoils  the  appetite." 

An  old  gentleman,  with  a  restless  jaw,  tottered  to  his 
feet  and  approached  Geoffrey's  table.  He  bowed  twice 
before  him,  and  held  out  a  claw-like  hand. 

"Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke,  the  father  of  Mr.  Fujinami 
Gentaro,"  announced  Ito.  "He  has  retired  from  life.  He 
wishes  to  drink  wine  with  you.  Please  wash  your  cup 
and  give  it  to  him." 

There  was  a  kind  of  finger-bowl  standing  in  front  of 
Geoffrey,  which  he  had  imagined  might  be  a  spittoon. 
He  was  directed  to  rinse  his  cup  in  this  vessel,  and  to 
hand  it  to  the  old  gentleman.  Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke 
received  it  in  both  hands  as  if  it  had  been  a  sacrament. 
The  attendant  geisha  poured  out  a  little  of  the  greenish 
liquid,  which  was  drunk  with  much  hissing  and  sucking. 
Then  followed  another  obeisance ;  the  cup  was  returned, 
and  the  old  gentleman  retired. 

He  was  succeeded  by  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  himself, 
with  whom  the  same  ceremony  of  the  sake  drinking  was 
repeated ;  and  then  all  the  family  passed  by,  one  after  an- 
other, each  taking  the  cup  and  drinking.  It  was  like  a 
visiting  figure  in  the  lancers'  quadrille. 

As  each  relative  bent  and  bowed,  Ito  announced  his 
name  and  quality.  These  names  seemed  all  alike,  alike 


138  KIMONO 

as  their  faces  and  as  their  garments  were.  Geoffrey 
could  only  remember  vaguely  that  he  had  been  introduced 
to  a  Member  of  Parliament,  a  gross  man  with  a  terrible 
wen  like  an  apple  under  his  ear,  and  to  two  army  officers, 
tall  clean-looking  men,  who  pleased  him  more  than  the 
others.  There  were  several  Government  functionaries ; 
but  the  majority  were  business  men.  Geoffrey  could  only 
distinguish  for  certain  his  host  and  his  host's  father. 

"They  look  just  like  two  old  vultures,"  he  thought. 

Then  there  was  Mr.  Fujinami  Takeshi,  the  son  of  the 
host  and  the  hope  of  the  family,  a  livid  youth  with  a 
thin  moustache  and  unhealthy  marks  on  his  face  like 
raspberries  under  the  skin. 

Still  the  geisha  kept  bringing  more  and  more  food  in 
a  desultory  way  quite  unlike  our  system  of  fixed  and 
regular  courses.  Still  Ito  kept  pressing  Geoffrey  to  eat, 
while  at  the  same  time  apologizing  for  the  quality  of 
the  food  with  exasperating  repetition.  Geoffrey  had 
fallen  into  the  error  of  thinking  that  the  fish  and  its 
accompanying  dishes  which  had  been  laid  before  him  at 
first  comprised  the  whole  of  the  repast.  He  had  polished 
them  off  with  gusto;  and  had  then  discovered  to  his 
alarm  that  they  were  merely  hors  d'azuvres.  Nor  did  he 
observe  until  too  late  how  little  the  other  guests  were 
eating.  There  was  no  discourtesy  apparently  in  leaving 
the  whole  of  a  dish  untasted,  or  in  merely  picking  at  it 
from  time  to  time.  Rudeness  consisted  in  refusing  any 
dish. 

Plates  of  broiled  meat  and  sandwiches  arrived,  bowls 
of  soup,  grilled  eels  on  skewers — that  most  famous  of 
Tokyo  delicacies ;  finally,  the  inevitable  rice  with  whose 
adhesive  substance  the  Japanese  epicure  fills  up  the  final 
crannies  in  his  well-lined  stomach.  It  made  its  appear- 
ance in  a  round  drum-like  tub  of  clean  white  wood,  as 
big  as  a  bandbox,  and  bound  round  with  shining  brass. 
The  girls  served  the  sticky  grains  into  the  china  rice- 
bowl  with  a  flat  wooden  ladle. 

"Japanese  people  always  take  two  bowls  of  rice  at 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  139 

least,"  observed  Ito.  "One  bowl  very  unlucky;  at  the 
funeral  we  only  eat  one  bowl." 

This  to  Geoffrey  was  the  coup  de  grace.  He  had  only 
managed  to  stuff  down  his  bowl  through  a  desperate 
sense  of  duty. 

"If  I  do  have  a  second,"  he  gasped,  "it  will  be  my  own 
funeral." 

But  this  joke  did  not  run  in  the  well-worn  lines  of 
Japanese  humour.  Mr.  Ito  merely  thought  that  the  big 
Englishman,  having  drunk  much  sake,  was  talking  non- 
sense. 

All  the  guests  were  beginning  to  circulate  now ;  the 
quadrille  was  becoming  more  and  more  elaborate.  They 
were  each  calling  on  each  other  and  taking  wine.  The 
talk  was  becoming  more  animated.  A  few  bold  spirits 
began  to  laugh  and  joke  with  the  geisha.  Some  had  laid 
aside  their  cloaks;  and  some  even  had  loosened  their 
kimonos  at  the  neck,  displaying  hairy  chests.  The  stiff 
symmetry  of  the  dinner  party  was  quite  broken  up.  The 
guests  were  scattered  like  rooks,  bobbing,  scratching  and 
pecking  about  on  the  yellow  mats.  The  bright  plumage 
of  the  geisha  stood  out  against  their  sombre  monotony. 

Presently  the  geisha  began  to  dance  at  the  far  end  of 
the  room.  Ten  of  the  little  girls  did  their  steps,  a  slow 
dance  full  of  posturing  with  coloured  handkerchiefs.  Three 
of  the  elder  geisha  in  plain  grey  kimonos  squatted  behind 
the  dancers,  strumming  on  their  samisens.  But  there  was 
very  little  music  either  in  the  instrument  or  in  the 
melody.  The  sound  of  the  string's  twang  and  the  rattle 
of  the  bone  plectrum  drowned  the  sweetness  of  the  note. 
The  result  was  a  kind  of  dry  clatter  or  cackle  which  is 
ingenious,  but  not  pleasing. 

Reggie  Forsyth  used  to  say  that  there  is  no  melody  in 
Japanese  music;  but  that  the  rhythm  is  marvelous.  It 
is  a  kind  of  elaborate  ragtime  without  any  tune  to  it. 

The  guests  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  the  perfor- 
mance, nor  did  they  applaud  when  it  was  over. 

Mr.  Ito  was  consulting  his  agenda  paper  and  his  gold 
watch. 


140  KIMONO 

"You  will  now  drink  with  these  gentlemen,"  he  said. 
Geoffrey  must  have  demurred. 

"It  is  Japanese  custom,"  he  continued;  "please  step 
this  way;  I  will  guide  you." 

Poor  Geoffrey !  it  was  his  turn  now  to  do  the  visiting 
figure,  but  his  head  was  buzzing  with  some  thirty  cups  of 
sake  which  he  had  swallowed  out  of  politeness,  and  with 
the  unreality  of  the  whole  scene. 

"Can't  do  it,"  he  protested ;  "drunk  too  much  already." 

"In  Japan  we  say,  'When  friends  meet  the  sake  sellers 
laugh !' "  quoted  the  lawyer.  "It  is  Japanese  custom  to 
drink  together,  and  to  be  happy.  To  be  drunk  in  good 
company,  it  is  no  shame.  Many  of  these  gentlemen  will 
presently  be  drunk.  But  if  you  do  not  wish  to  drink 
more,  then  just  pretend  to  drink.  You  take  the  cup,  see ; 
you  lift  it  to  your  mouth,  but  you  throw  away  the  sake 
into  the  basin  when  you  wash  the  cup.  That  is  geisha's 
trick  when  the  boys  try  to  make  her  drunk,  but  she  is 
too  wise!" 

Armed  with  this  advice  Goeffrey  started  on  his  round 
of  visits,  first  to  his  host  and  then  to  his  host's  father. 
The  face  of  old  Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke  was  as  red  as 
beet-root,  and  his  jaw  was  chewing  more  vigorously  than 
ever.  Nothing,  however,  could  have  been  more  perfect 
than  his  deportment  in  exchanging  the  cup  with  his 
guest.  But  no  sooner  had  Geoffrey  turned  away  to  pay 
another  visit  than  he  became  aware  of  a  slight  commo- 
tion. He  glanced  round  and  saw  Mr.  Fujinami,  senior, 
in  a  state  of  absolute  collapse,  being  conducted  out  of  the 
room  by  two  members  of  the  family  and  a  cluster  of 
geisha. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  asked  in  some  alarm. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Ito;  "old  gentleman  tipsy  very 
quick." 

Everybody  now  seemed  to  be  smiling  and  happy.  Geof- 
frey felt  the  curse  of  his  speechlessness.  He  was  brim- 
ming over  with  good  humour,  and  was  most  anxious  to 
please.  The  Japanese  no  longer  appeared  so  grotesque 
as  they  had  on  his  arrival.  He  was  sure  that  he  would 


A  GEISHA  DINNER  141 

have  much  in  common  with  many  of  these  men,  who 
talked  so  good-naturedly  among  themselves,  until  the 
chill  of  his  approach  fell  upon  them. 

Besides  Ito  and  Sadako  Fujinami,  the  only  person 
present  who  could  talk  English  at  all  fluently  was  that 
blotchy-faced  individual,  Mr.  Fujinami  Takeshi.  The 
young  man  was  in  a  very  hilarious  state,  and  had  gath- 
ered around  him  a  bevy  of  geisha  with  whom  he  was 
cracking  jokes.  From  the  nature  of  his  gestures  they 
must  have  been  far  from  decorous. 

"Please  to  sit  down,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said  to  Geof- 
frey. "Do  you  like  geisha  girl?" 

"I  don't  think  they  like  me,"  said  Geoffrey.  "I'm  too 
big." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  Japanese ;  "very  big,  very  good. 
Japanese  man  too  small,  no  good  at  all.  Why  do  all  geisha 
love  sumotori  (professional  wrestlers)  ?  Because  sumo- 
tori  very  big;  but  this  English  gentleman  bigger  than 
sumotori.  So  this  girl  love  you,  and  this  girl,  and  this 
girl,  and  this  very  pretty  girl,  I  don't  know  ?" 

He  added  a  question  in  Japanese.  The  geisha  giggled, 
and  hid  her  face  behind  her  sleeve. 

"She  say,  she  wish  to  try  first.  To  try  the  cake,  you 
eat  some?  Is  that  right?" 

He  repeated  his  joke  in  Japanese.  The  girl  wriggled 
with  embarrassment,  and  finally  scuttled  away  across  the 
room,  while  the  others  laughed. 

All  the  geisha  now  hid  their  faces  among  much  titter- 
ing. 

Geoffrey  was  becoming  harassed  by  this  badinage;  but 
he  hated  to  appear  a  prude,  and  said: 

"I  have  got  a  wife,  you  know,  Mr.  Fujinami;  she  is 
keeping  an  eye  on  me." 

"No  matter,  no  matter,"  the  young  man  answered, 
waving  his  hand  to  and  fro;  "we  all  have  wife;  wife  no 
matter  in  Japan." 

At  last  Geoffrey  got  back  to  his  throne  at  Asako's  side. 
He  was  wondering  what  would  be  the  next  move  in  the 


142  KIMONO 

game  when,  to  his  relief  and  surprise,  Ito,  after  a  glance 
at  his  watch,  said  suddenly: 

"It  is  now  time  to  go  home.  Please  say  good-bye  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fujinami." 

A  sudden  dismissal,  but  none  the  less  welcome. 

The  inner  circle  of  the  Fujinami  had  gathered  round. 
They  and  the  geisha  escorted  their  guests  to  the  rick- 
shaws and  helped  them  on  with  their  cloaks  and  boots. 
There  was  no  pressing  to  remain ;  and  as  Geoffrey  passed 
the  clock  in  the  entrance  hall  he  noticed  that  it  was  just 
ten  o'clock.  Evidently  the  entertainment  was  run  with 
strict  adherence  to  the  time-table. 

Some  of  the  guests  were  too  deep  in  sakt  and  flirta- 
tion to  be  aware  of  the  break-up;  and  the  last  vision 
granted  to  Geoffrey  of  the  M.P.  —  the  fat  man  with  the 
wen  —  was  of  a  kind  of  Turkey  Trot  going  on  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  and  the  thick  arms  of  the  legislator  disap- 
pearing up  the  lady's  kimono  sleeve. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOM 

Iro  wa  nioedo  The  colours   are  bright,  but 

Chirinuru  wo —  The  petals  fall  I 

Woga  yo  tore  so  In  this  world  of  ours  who 

Tsune   naran?  Shall  remain  forever? 

Ui  no  okuyama  To-day  crossing 

Kyo  koete,  The  high  mountains  of  muta- 

Asaki  yume  nriji  bility, 

Ei  mo  sezu.  We  shall  see  no  fleeting  dreams, 

Being  inebriate  no  longer. 

"0  hayo  gasaimas' !"  (Respectfully  early!) 

Twitterings  of  maid-servants  salute  the  lady  of  the 
house  with  the  conventional  morning  greeting.  Mrs. 
Fujinami  Shidzuye  replies  in  the  high,  fluty,  unnatural 
voice  which  is  considered  refined  in  her  social  set. 

The  servants  glide  into  the  room  which  she  has  just 
left,  moving  noiselessly  so  as  not  to  wake  the  master  who 
is  still  sleeping.  They  remove  from  his  side  the  thick 
warm  mattresses  upon  which  his  wife  has  been  lying,  the 
hard  wooden  pillow  like  the  block  of  history,  the  white 
sheets  and  the  heavy  padded  coverlet  with  sleeves  like 
an  enormous  kimono.  They  roil  up  all  these  yagu 
(night  implements),  fold  them  and  put  them  away  into 
an  unsuspected  cupboard  in  the  architecture  of  the 
veranda. 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  still  snores. 

After  a  while  his  wife  returns.  She  is  dressed  for  the 
morning  in  a  plain  grey  silk  kimono  with  a  broad  olive- 
green  obi  (sash).  Her  hair  is  arranged  in  a  formidable 
helmet-like  coiffure — all  Japanese  matrons  with  their 
hair  done  properly  bear  a  remote  resemblance  to  Pallas 
Athene  and  Britannia.  This  will  need  the  attention  of 
the  hairdresser  so  as  to  wax  into  obedience  a  few  hairs 
left  wayward  by  the  night  in  spite  of  that  severe  wooden 

143 


144  KIMONO 

pillow,  whose  hard,  high  discomfort  was  invented  by 
female  vanity  to  preserve  from  disarray  the  rigid  order 
of  their  locks.  Her  feet  are  encased  in  little  white  tabi 
like  gloves,  for  the  big  toe  has  a  compartment  all  to  itself. 
She  walks  with  her  toes  turned  in,  and  with  the  heels 
hardly  touching  the  ground.  This  movement  produces  a 
bend  of  the  knees  and  hips  so  as  to  maintain  the  equi- 
librium of  the  body,  and  a  sinuous  appearance  which  is 
considered  the  height  of  elegance  in  Japan,  so  that  the 
grace  of  a  beautiful  woman  is  likened  to  "a  willow-tree 
blown  by  the  wind,"  and  the  shuffle  of  her  feet  on  the 
floor-matting  to  the  wind's  whisper. 

Mrs.  Fujinami  carries  a  red  lacquer  tray.  On  the  tray 
is  a  tiny  teapot  and  a  tiny  cup  and  a  tiny  dish,  in  which 
are  three  little  salted  damsons,  with  a  toothpick  fixed  in 
one  of  them.  It  is  the  petit  dejeuner  of  her  lord.  She 
put  down  the  tray  beside  the  head  of  the  pillow,  and 
makes  a  low  obeisance,  touching  the  floor  with  her  fore- 
head. 

"O  hayo  gazaimas' !" 

Mr.  Fujinami  stirs,  gapes,  stretches,  yawns,  rubs  his 
lean  fist  in  his  hollow  eyes,  and  stares  at  the  rude  incur- 
sion of  daylight.  He  takes  no  notice  of  his  wife's  pres- 
ence. She  pours  out  tea  for  him  with  studied  pose  of 
hands  and  wrists,  conventional  and  graceful.  She  re- 
spectfully requests  him  to  condescend  to  partake.  Then 
she  makes  obeisance  again. 

Mr.  Fujinami  yawns  once  more,  after  which  he  conde- 
scends. He  sucks  down  the  thin,  green  tea  with  a  whis- 
tling noise.  Then  he  places  in  his  mouth  the  damson 
balanced  on  the  point  of  the  toothpick.  He  turns  it  over 
and  over  with  his  tongue  as  though  he  was  chewing  a 
cud.  Finally  he  decides  to  eat  it,  and  to  remove  the  stone. 

Then  he  rises  from  his  couch.  He  is  a  very  small 
wizened  man.  Dressed  in  his  night  kimono  of  light  blue 
silk,  he  passes  along  the  veranda  in  the  direction  of  the 
morning  ablutions.  Soon  the  rending  sounds  of  throat- 
clearing  show  that  he  has  begun  his  wash.  Three  maids 
appear  as  by  magic  in  the  vacated  room.  The  bed  is 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  145 

rolled  away,  the  matting  swept,  and  the  master's  morn- 
ing clothes  are  laid  out  ready  for  him  on  his  return. 

Mrs.  Fujinami  assists  her  husband  to  dress,  holding 
each  garment  ready  for  him  to  slip  into,  like  a  well- 
trained  valet.  Mr.  Fujinami  does  not  speak  to  her. 
When  his  belt  has  been  adjusted,  and  a  watch  with  a 
gold  fob  thrust  into  its  interstice,  he  steps  down  from 
the  veranda,  slides  his  feet  into  a  pair  of  geta,  and  strolls 
out  into  the  garden. 

Mr.  Fujinami's  garden  is  a  famous  one.  It  is  a  temple 
garden  many  centuries  old ;  and  the  eyes  of  the  initiated 
may  read  in  the  miniature  landscape,  in  the  grouping  of 
shrubs  and  rocks,  in  the  sudden  glimpses  of  water,  and 
in  the  bare  pebbly  beaches,  a  whole  system  of  philosophic 
and  religious  thought  worked  out  by  the  patient  priests 
of  the  Ashikaga  period,  just  as  the  Gothic  masons  wrote 
their  version  of  the  Bible  history  in  the  architecture  of 
their  cathedrals. 

But  for  the  ignorant,  including  its  present  master,  it 
was  just  a  perfect  little  park,  with  lawns  six  feet  square 
and  ancient  pine  trees,  with  impenetrable  forests  which 
one  could  clear  at  a  bound,  with  gorges,  waterfalls, 
arbours  for  lilliputian  philanderings  and  a  lake  round 
whose  tiny  shores  were  represented  the  Eight  Beautiful 
Views  of  the  Lake  of  Biwa  near  Kyoto. 

The  bungalow  mansion  of  the  family  lies  on  a  knoll 
overlooking  the  lake  and  the  garden  valley,  a  rambling 
construction  of  brown  wood  with  grey  scale-like  tiles, 
resembling  a  domesticated  dragon  stretching  itself  in  the 
sun. 

Indeed,  it  is  not  one  house  but  many,  linked  together 
by  a  number  of  corridors  and  spare  rooms.  For  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Fujinami  live  in  one  wing,* their  son  and  his  wife  in 
another,  and  also  Mr.  Ito,  the  lawyer,  who  is  a  distant 
relative  and  a  partner  in  the  Fujinami  business.  Then, 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  house,  near  the  pebble  drive 
and  the  great  gate,  are  the  swarming  quarters  of  the 
servants,  the  rickshaw  men,  and  Mr.  Fujinami's  secre- 
taries. Various  poor  relations  exist  unobserved  in  un- 


146  KIMONO 

frequented  corners;  and  there  is  the  following  of  Uni- 
versity students  and  professional  swashbucklers  which 
every  important  Japanese  is  bound  to  keep,  as  an  adver- 
tisement of  his  generosity,  and  to  do  his  dirty  work  for 
him.  A  Japanese  family  mansion  is  very  like  a  hive — of 
drones. 

Nor  is  this  the  entire  population  '  of  the  Fujinami 
yashiki.  Across  the  garden  and  beyond  the  bamboo  grove 
is  the  little  house  of  Mr.  Fujinami's  stepbrother  and  his 
wife ;  and  in  the  opposite  corner,  below  the  cherry- 
orchard,  is  the  inkyo,  the  dower  house,  where  old  Mr. 
Fujinami  Gennosuke,  the  retired  Lord — who  is  the  pres- 
ent Mr.  Fujinami's  father  by  adoption  only — watches  the 
progress  of  the  family  fortunes  with  the  vigilance  of 
Charles  the  Fifth  in  the  cloister  of  Juste. 


Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  shuffled  his  way  towards  a  little 
room  like  a  kind  of  summer-house,  detached  from  the 
main  building  and  overlooking  the  lake  and  garden  from 
the  most  favourable  point  of  vantage. 

This  is  Mr.  Fujinami's  study — like  all  Japanese  rooms, 
a  square  box  with  wooden  framework,  wooden  ceiling, 
sliding  paper  shoji,  pale  golden  tat  ami  and  double  alcove. 
All  Japanese  rooms  are  just  the  same,  from  the  Em- 
peror's to  the  rickshaw-man's ;  only  in  the  quality  of  the 
wood,  in  the  workmanship  of  the  fittings,  in  the  newness 
and  freshness  of  paper  and  matting,  and  by  the  orna- 
ments placed  in  the  alcove,  may  the  prosperity  of  the 
house  be  known. 

In  Mr.  Fujinami's  study,  one  niche  of  the  alcove  was 
fitted  up  as  a  bookcase ;  and  that  bookcase  was  made  of  a 
wonderful  honey-coloured  satinwood  brought  from  the 
hinterland  of  China.  The  lock  and  the  handles  were  in- 
laid with  dainty  designs  in  gold  wrought  by  a  celebrated 
Kyoto  artist.  In  the  open  alcove  the  hanging  scroll  of 
Lao  Tze's  paradise  had  cost  many  hundreds  of  pounds, 
as  had  also  the  Sung  dish  below  it,  an  intricacy  of  lotus 
leaves  caved  out  of  a  single  amethyst. 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  147 

On  a  table  in  the  middle  of  this  chaste  apartment  lay 
a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  spectacles  and  a  yellow  book. 
The  room  was  open  to  the  early  morning  sunlight ;  the 
paper  walls  were  pushed  back.  Mr.  Fujinami  moved  a 
square  silk  cushion  to  the  edge  of  the  matting  near  the 
outside  veranda.  There  he  could  rest  his  back  against 
a  post  in  the  framework  of  the  building — for  even  Jap- 
anese get  wearied  by  the  interminable  squatting  which 
life  on  the  floor  level  entails — and  acquire  that  condi- 
tion of  bodily  repose  which  is  essential  for  meditation. 

Mr.  Fujinami  was  in  the  habit  of  meditating  for  one 
hour  every  morning.  It  was  a  tradition  of  his  house ;  his 
father  and  his  grandfather  had  done  so  before  him. 
The  guide  of  his  meditations  was  the  yellow  book,  the 
Kongo  (Maxims)  of  Confucius,  that  Bible  of  the  Far 
East  which  has  moulded  oriental  morality  to  the  shape  of 
the  Three  Obediences,  the  obedience  of  the  child  to  his 
parents,  of  the  wife  to  her  husband,  and  of  the  servant 
to  his  lord. 

Mr.  Fujinami  sat  on  the  sill  of  his  study,  and  medi- 
tated. Around  him  was  the  stillness  of  early  morning. 
From  the  house  could  be  heard  the  swish  of  the  maids' 
brooms  brushing  the  tatami,  and  the  flip-flap  of  their 
paper  flickers,  like  horses'  tails,  with  which  they  dis- 
lodged the  dust  from  the  walls  and  cornices. 

A  big  black  crow  had  been  perched  on  one  of  the 
cherry-trees  in  the  garden.  He  rose  with  a  shaking  of 
branches  and  a  flapping  of  broad  black  wings.  He  crossed 
the  lake,  croaking  as  he  flew  with  a  note  more  harsh, 
rasping  and  cynical  than  the  consequential  caw  of  Eng- 
lish rooks.  His  was  a  malevolent  presence  "from  the 
night's  Plutonian  shore,"  the  symbol  of  something  un- 
clean and  sinister  lurking  behind  this  dainty  beauty  and 
this  elaboration  of  cleanliness. 

Mr.  Fujinami's  meditations  were  deep  and  grave.  Soon 
he  put  down  the  book.  The  spectacles  glided  along  his 
nose.  His  chest  rose  and  fell  quickly  under  the  weight 
of  his  resting  chin.  To  the  ignorant  observer  Mr.  Fu- 
jinami would  have  appeared  to  be  asleep. 


148  KIMONO 

However,  when  his  wife  appeared  about  an  hour  and  a 
half  afterwards,  bringing  her  lord's  breakfast  on  another 
red  lacquer  table  she  besought  him  kindly  to  condescend 
to  eat,  and  added  that  he  must  be  very  tired  after  so 
much  study.  To  this  Mr.  Fujinami  replied  by  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead  and  saying,  "Domo!  So  des' 
ne!  (Indeed,  it  is  so!)  I  have  tired  myself  with  toil." 

This  little  farce  repeated  itself  every  morning.  All 
the  household  knew  that  the  master's  hour  of  meditation 
was  merely  an  excuse  for  an  after-sleep.  But  it  was  a 
tradition  in  the  family  that  the  master  should  study 
thus;  and  Mr.  Fujinami's  grandfather  had  been  a  great 
scholar  in  his  generation.  To  maintain  the  tradition  Mr. 
Fujinami  had  hired  a  starveling  journalist  to  write  a 
series  of  random  essays  of  a  sentimental  nature,  which 
he  had  published  under  his  own  name,  with  the  title, 
Fallen  Cherry-Blossoms. 

Such  is  the  hold  of  humbug  in  Japan  that  nobody  in  the 
whole  household,  including  the  students  who  respected 
nothing,  ever  allowed  themselves  the  relief  of  smiling  at 
the  sacred  hour  of  study,  even  when  the  master's  back 
was  turned. 

"O  hayo  gozaimas' !" 

"For  honourable  feast  of  yesterday  evening  indeed  very 
much  obliged !" 

The  oily  forehead  of  Mr.  Ito  touched  the  matting  floor 
with  the  exaggerated  humility  of  conventional  gratitude. 
The  lawyer  wore  a  plain  kimono  of  slate-grey  silk.  His 
American  manners  and  his  pomposity  had  both  been  laid 
aside  with  the  tweed  suit  and  the  swallow-tail.  He  was 
now  a  plain  Japanese  business  man,  servile  and  adula- 
tory in  his  patron's  presence.  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro 
bowed  slightly  in  acknowledgment  across  the  remnants 
of  his  meal. 

"It  is  no  matter,"  he  said,  with  a  few  waves  of  his 
fan ;  "please  sit  at  your  ease." 

The  two  gentlemen  arranged  themselves  squatting 
cross-legged  for  the  morning's  confidential  talk. 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  149 

"The  cherry-flowers,"  Ito  began,  with  a  sweep  of  the 
arm  towards  the  garden  grove,  "how  quickly  they  fall, 
alas !" 

"Indeed,  human  life  also,"  agreed  Mr.  Fujinami.  "But 
the  guests  of  last  evening,  what  is  one  to  think?" 

"Ma!  In  truth,  sensei  (master  or  teacher),  it  would 
be  impossible  not  to  call  that  Asa  San  a  beauty." 

"Ito  Kun,"  said  his  relative  in  a  tone  of  mild  censure, 
"it  is  foolish  always  to  think  of  women's  looks.  This 
foreigner,  what  of  him?" 

"For  a  foreigner,  that  person  seems  to  be  honourable 
and  grave,"  answered  the  retainer,  "but  one  fears  that 
it  is  a  misfortune  for  the  house  of  Fujinami." 

"To  have  a  son  who  is  no  son,"  said  the  head  of  the 
family,  sighing. 

"Domo!  It  is  terrible!"  was  the  reply;  "besides,  as 
the  sensei  so  eloquently  said  last  night,  there  are  so  few 
blossoms  on  the  old  tree." 

The  better  to  aid  his  thoughts,  Mr.  Fujinami  drew 
from  about  his  person  a  case  which  contained  a  thin 
bamboo  pipe,  called  kiscru  in  Japanese,  having  a  metal 
bowl  of  the  size  and  shape  of  the  socket  of  an  acorn.  He 
filled  this  diminutive  bowl  with  a  little  wad  of  tobacco, 
•which  looked  like  coarse  brown  hair.  He  kindled  it  from 
the  charcoal  ember  in  the  hibachi.  He  took  three  sucks 
of  smoke,  breathing  them  slowly  out  of  his  mouth  again 
in  thick  grey  whorls.  Then  with  three  hard  raps  against 
the  wooden  edge  of  the  firebox,  he  knocked  out  again 
the  glowing  ball  of  weed.  When  this  ritual  was  over, 
he  replaced  the  pipe  in  its  sheath  of  old  brocade. 

The  lawyer  sucked  in  his  breath,  and  bowed  his  head. 

"In  family  matters,"  he  said,  "it  is  rude  for  an  outside 
person  to  advise  the  master.  But  last  night  I  saw  a 
dream.  I  saw  the  Englishman  had  been  sent  back  to 
England ;  and  that  this  Asa  San  with  all  her  money  was 
again  in  the  Fujinami  family.  Indeed,  a  foolish  dream, 
but  a  good  thing,  I  think!" 

Mr.  Fujinami  pondered  with  his  face  inclined  and  his 
eyes  shut. 


150  KIMONO 

"Ito  Kun,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  are  indeed  a  great 
schemer.  Every  month  you  make  one  hundred  schemes. 
Ninety  of  them  are  impracticable,  eight  of  them  are 
foolish,  and  two  of  them  are  masterpieces!" 

"And  this  one?"  asked  Ito. 

"I  think  it  is  impracticable,"  said  his  patron,  "but  it 
would  be  worth  while  to  try.  It  would  without  doubt 
be  an  advantage  to  send  away  this  foreigner.  He  is  a 
great  trouble,  and  may  even  become  a  danger.  Besides, 
the  house  of  Fujinami  has  few  children.  Where  there  are 
no  sons  even  daughters  are  welcome.  If  we  had  this 
Asa,  we  could  marry  her  to  some  influential  person.  She 
is  very  beautiful,  she  is  rich,  and  she  speaks  foreign 
languages.  There  would  be  no  difficulty.  Now,  as  to  the 
present,  how  about  this  Osaka  business?" 

"I  have  heard  from  my  friend  this  morning,"  answered 
Ito;  "it  is  good  news.  The  Governor  will  sanction  the 
establishment  of  the  new  licensed  quarter  at  Tobita,  if 
the  Home  Minister  approves." 

"But  that  is  easy.  The  Minister  has  always  protected 
us.  Besides,  did  I  not  give  fifty  thousand  yen  to  the 
funds  of  the  Seiyukwaif"  said  Mr.  Fujinami,  naming  the 
political  party  then  in  the  majority  in  Parliament. 

"Yes,  but  it  must  be  done  quickly ;  for  opposition  is 
being  organised.  First,  there  was  the  Salvation  Army 
and  the  missionaries.  Now,  there  are  Japanese  people, 
too,  people  who  make  a  cry  and  say  this  licensed  prosti- 
tute system  is  not  suitable  to  a  civilised  country,  and  it 
is  a  shame  to  Japan.  Also,  there  may  be  a  political 
change  very  soon,  and  a  new  Minister." 

"Then  we  would  have  to  begin  all  over  again,  another 
fifty  thousand  yen  to  the  other  side." 

"If  it  is  worth  it?" 

"My  father  says  that  Osaka  is  the  gold  mine  of  Japan. 
It  is  worth  all  that  we  can  pay." 

"Yes,  but  Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke  is  an  old  man  now, 
and  the  times  are  changing." 

The  master  laughed. 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  151 

"Times  change,"  he  said,  "but  men  and  women  never 
change." 

"It  is  true,"  argued  Ito,  "that  rich  and  noble  persons  no 
longer  frequent  the  yukwaku  (pleasure  enclosure).  My 
friend,  Suzuki,  has  seen  the  Chief  of  the  Metropolitan 
Police.  He  says  that  he  will  not  be  able  to  permit 
Oiran  Dochu  another  year.  He  says  too  that  it  will  soon 
be  forbidden  to  show  the  joro  in  their  windows.  It  will 
be  photograph-system  for  all  houses.  It  is  all  a  sign  of 
the  change.  Therefore,  the  Fujinami  ought  not  to  sink 
any  more  capital  in  the  yukwaku" 

"But  men  will  still  be  men,  they  will  still  need  a  laundry 
for  their  spirits."  Mr.  Fujinami  used  a  phrase  which  in 
Japan  is  a  common  excuse  for  those  who  frequent  the 
demi-monde. 

"That  is  true,  sensci,"  said  the  counsellor;  "but  our 
Japan  must  take  on  a  show  of  Western  civilisation.  It 
is  the  thing  called  progress.  It  is  part  of  Western  civili- 
sation that  men  will  become  more  hypocritical.  These 
foreigners  say  our  Yoshiwara  is  a  shame ;  but,  in  their 
own  cities,  immoral  women  walk  in  the  best  streets,  and 
offer  themselves  to  men  quite  openly.  These  virtuous 
foreigners  are  worse  than  we  are.  I  myself  have  seen. 
They  say,  'We  have  no  Yoshiwara  system,  therefore  we 
are  good.'  They  pretend  not  to  see  like  a  geisha  who 
squints  through  a  fan.  We  Japanese,  we  now  become 
more  hypocritical,  because  this  is  necessary  law  of  civili- 
sation. The  two  swords  of  the  samurai  have  gone ;  but 
honour  and  hatred  and  revenge  will  never  go.  The 
kanzashi  (hair  ornaments)  of  the  oiran  will  go  too;  but 
what  the  oiran  lose,  the  geisha  will  gain.  Therefore,  if 
I  were  Fujinami  San,  I  would  buy  up  the  geisha,  and 
also  perhaps  the  inbai  (unregistered  women)." 

"But  that  is  a  low  trade,"  objected  the  Yoshiwara 
magnate. 

"It  is  very  secret ;  your  name  need  never  be  spoken." 

"And  it  is  too  scattered,  too  disorganised,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  control." 


152  KIMONO 

"I  do  not  think  it  would  be  so  difficult.  What  might 
be  proposed  is  a  geisha  trust." 

"But  even  the  Fujinami  have  not  got  enough  money." 

"Within  one  month  I  guarantee  to  find  the  right  men, 
with  the  money  and  the  experience  and  the  influence." 

"Then  the  business  would  no  longer  be  the  Fujinami 
only " 

"It  would  be  as  in  America,  a  combine,  something  on 
a  big  scale.  In  Japan  one  is  content  with  such  small 
business.  Indeed,  we  Japanese  are  a  very  small  people." 

"In  America,  perhaps,  there  is  more  confidence,"  said 
the  elder  man ;  "but  in  Japan  we  say,  'Beware  of  friends 
who  are  not  also  relatives.'  There  is,  as  you  know,  the 
temple  of  Inari  Daimyojin  in  Asakusa.  They  say 
that  if  a  man  worships  at  that  temple  he  becomes  the 
owner  of  his  friend's  wealth.  I  fear  that  too  many  of 
us  Japanese  make  pilgrimage  to  that  temple  after  night- 
fall." 

With  those  words,  Mr.  Fujinami  picked  up  a  newspaper 
to  indicate  that  the  audience  was  terminated ;  and  Mr. 
Ito,  after  a  series  of  prostrations,  withdrew. 


As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro 
selected  from  the  pile  in  front  of  him  a  number  of  letters 
and  newspapers.  With  these  in  his  hand,  he  left  the 
study,  and  followed  a  path  of  broad,  flat  stepping-stones 
across  the  garden  towards  the  cherry-orchard.  Here 
the  way  sloped  rapidly  downward  under  a  drift  of  fallen 
petals.  On  the  black  naked  twigs  of  the  cherry-trees  one 
or  two  sturdy  blossoms  still  clung  pathetically,  like 
weather-beaten  butterflies.  Beyond  a  green  shrubbery, 
on  a  little  knoll,  a  clean  newly-built  Japanese  house,  like 
a  large  rabbit  hutch,  rested  in  a  patch  of  sunlight.  It 
was  the  inkyo,  the  "shadow  dwelling"  or  dower  house. 
Here  dwelt  Mr.  Fujinami,  senior,  and  his  wife — his 
fourth  matrimonial  experiment. 

The  old  gentleman  was  squatting  on  the  balcony  of 
the  front  corner  room,  the  one  which  commanded  the 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  153 

best  view  of  the  cherry-grove.  He  looked  as  if  he  had 
just  been  unpacked ;  for  he  was  surrounded  by  reams  and 
reams  of  paper,  some  white,  and  some  with  Chinese  let- 
ters scrawled  over  them.  He  was  busy  writing  these 
letters  with  a  kind  of  thick  paint-brush ;  and  he  was  so 
deep  in  his  task  that  he  appeared  not  to  notice  his  son's 
approach.  His  festless  jaw  was  still  ijmperturbably 
chewing. 

"O  hayo  gozaimaJ !" 

"Taro,  yo!  O  hayo!"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  calling 
his  son  by  his  short  boy's  name,  and  cutting  off  all  honor- 
ifics  from  his  speech.  He  always  affected  surprise  at  this 
visit,  which  had  been  a  daily  occurrence  for  many  years. 

"The  cherry-flowers  are  fallen  and  finished,"  said  the 
younger  man.  "Ah,  human  life,  how  short  a  thing!" 

"Yes,  one  year  more  I  have  seen  the  flowers,"  said  Mr. 
Fujinami  Gennosuke,  nodding  his  head  and  taking  his 
son's  generalisation  as  a  personal  reference.  He  had  laid 
his  brush  aside ;  and  he  was  really  wondering  what  would 
be  Gentaro's  comment  on  last  night's  feast  and  its  guests 
of  honour. 

"Father  is  practising  handwriting  again?" 

The  old  man's  mania  was  penmanship,  just  as  his  son's 
was  literature.  Among  Japanese  it  is  considered  the 
pastime  becoming  to  his  age. 

"My  wrist  has  become  stiff.  I  cannot  write  as  I  used 
to.  It  is  always  so.  Youth  has  the  strength  but  not  the 
knowledge ;  age  has  the  knowledge,  but  no  strength." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Gennosuke  was  immensely 
satisfied  with  his  calligraphy,  and  was  waiting  for  com- 
pliments. 

"But  this,  this  is  beautifully  written.  It  is  worthy 
of  Kobo  Daishi !"  said  the  younger  man,  naming  a  famous 
scholar  priest  of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  was  admiring  a 
scroll  on  which  four  characters  were  written  in  a  per- 
pendicular row.  They  signified,  "From  the  midst  of 
tranquillity  I  survey  the  world." 

"No,"  said  the  artist ;  "you  see  the  ten  (point)  there  is 
wrong.  It  is  ill-formed.  It  should  be  written  thus." 


154  KIMONO 

Shaking  back  his  kimono  sleeve — he  wore  a  sea-blue 
cotton  kimono,  as  befitted  his  years — and  with  a  little 
flourish  of  his  wrist,  like  a  golfer  about  to  make  his 
stroke,  he  traced  off  the  new  version  of  the  character  on 
the  white  paper. 

Perched  on  his  veranda,  with  his  head  on  one  side  he 
looked  very  like  the  marabout  stork,  as  you  may  see  him 
at  the  Zoo,  that  raffish  bird  with  the  folds  in  his  neck,  the 
stained  glaucous  complexion,  the  bald  head  and  the 
brown  human  eye.  He  had  the  same  look  of  respectable 
rascality.  The  younger  Fujinami  showed  signs  of  be- 
coming exactly  like  him,  although  the  parentage  was  by 
adoption  only.  He  was  not  yet  so  bald.  His  black  hair 
was  patched  with  grey  in  a  piebald  design.  The  skin  of 
the  throat  was  at  present  merely  loose,  it  did  not  yet 
hang  in  bags. 

"And  this  Asa  San?"  remarked  the  elder  after  a  pause ; 
"what  is  to  be  thought  of  her?  Last  night  I  became 
drunk,  as  my  habit  is,  and  I  could  not  see  those  people 
well." 

"She  is  not  loud-voiced  and  bold  like  foreign  women. 
Indeed,  her  voice  and  her  eyes  are  soft.  Her  heart  is 
very  good,  I  think.  She  is  timid,  and  in  everything  she 
puts  her  husband  first.  She  does  not  understand  the  world 
at  all ;  and  she  knows  nothing  about  money.  Indeed,  she 
is  like  a  perfect  Japanese  wife." 

"Hm!    A  good  thing,  and  the  husband?" 

"He  is  a  soldier,  an  honourable  man.  He  seemed  fool- 
ish, or  else  he  is  very  cunning.  The  English  people  are 
like  that.  They  say  a  thing.  Of  course,  you  think  it  is 
a  lie.  But  no,  it  is  the  truth ;  and  so  they  deceive." 

"Ma,  mendo-kusai  (indeed,  smelly-troublesome !)  And 
why  has  this  foreigner  come  to  Japan?" 

"Ito  says  he  has  come  to  learn  about  the  money.  That 
means,  when  he  knows  he  will  want  more." 

"How  much  do  we  pay  to  Asa  San?" 

"Ten  per  cent." 

"And  the  profits  last  year  on  all  our  business  came  to 
thirty  seven  and  a  half  per  cent.  Ah !  A  fine  gain.  We 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  155 

could  not  borrow  from  the  banks  at  ten  per  cent.  They 
would  want  at  least  fifteen,  and  many  gifts  for  silence. 
It  is  better  to  fool  the  husband,  and  to  let  them  go  back 
to  England.  After  all,  ten  per  cent  is  a  good  rate.  And 
we  want  all  our  money  now  for  the  new  brothels  in 
Osaka.  If  we  make  much  money  there,  then  afterwards 
we  can  give  them  more." 

"Ito  says  that  if  the  Englishman  knows  that  the  money 
is  made  in  brothels,  he  will  throw  it  all  away  and  finish. 
Ito  thinks  it  would  be  not  impossible  to  send  the  English- 
man back  to  England,  and  to  keep  Asa  here  in  Japan." 

The  old  man  looked  up  suddenly,  and  for  once  his  jaw 
stopped  chewing. 

"That  would  be  best  of  all,"  he  exclaimed.  "Then 
indeed  he  is  honourable  and  a  great  fool.  Being  an 
Englishman,  it  is  possible.  Let  him  go  back  to  England. 
We  will  keep  Asa.  She  too  is  a  Fujinami;  and,  even 
though  she  is  a  woman,  she  can  be  useful  to  the  family. 
She  will  stay  with  us.  She  would  not  like  to  be  poor. 
She  has  not  borne  a  baby  to  this  foreigner,  and  she  is 
young.  I  think  also  our  Sada  can  teach  her  many  things." 

"It  is  of  Sada  that  I  came  to  speak  to  father,"  said 
Mr.  Gentaro.  "The  marriage  of  our  Sada  is  a  great 
question  for  the  Fujinami  family.  Here  is  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Osumd,  a  friend  of  the  Governor  of  Osaka.  The 
Governor  has  been  of  much  help  to  us  in  getting  the 
concession  for  the  new  brothels.  He  is  a  widower  with 
no  children.  He  is  a  man  with  a  future.  He  is  protected 
by  the  military  clan.  He  is  wishful  to  marry  a  woman 
who  can  assist  his  career,  and  who  would  be  able  to  take 
the  place  of  a  Minister's  wife.  Mr.  Osumi,  who  writes, 
had  heard  of  the  accomplishments  of  our  Sada.  He  men- 
tioned her  name  to  the  Governor ;  and  His  Excellency 
was  quite  willing  that  Mr.  Osumi  should  write  something 
in  a  letter  to  Ito." 

"Hrn!"  grunted  the  old  gentleman,  squinting  sidelong 
at  his  son;  "this  Governor,  has  he  a  private  fortune?" 

"No,  he  is  a  self-made  man." 

"Then  it  will  not  be  with  him,  as  it  was  with  that  Vis- 


156  KIMONO 

count  Kamimura.  He  will  not  be  too  proud  to  take  our 
money." 

The  truth  of  the  allusion  to  Viscount  Kamimura  was 
that  the  name  of  Sadako  Fujinami  had  figured  on  the  list 
of  possible  brides  submitted  to  that  young  aristocrat  on 
his  return  from  England.  At  first,  it  seemed  likely  that 
the  choice  would  fall  upon  her,  because  of  her  undisputed 
cleverness ;  and  the  Fujinami  family  were  radiant  at  the 
prospect  of  so  brilliant  a  match.  For  although  nothing 
had  been  formally  mentioned  between  the  two  families, 
yet  Sadako  and  her  mother  had  learned  from  their  hair- 
dresser that  there  was  talk  of  such  a  possibility  in  the 
servants'  quarter  of  the  Kamimura  mansion,  and  that  old 
Dowager  Viscountess  Kamimura  was  undoubtedly  mak- 
ing inquiries  which  could  only  point  to  that  one  object. 

The  young  Viscount,  however,  on  ascertaining  the 
origin  of  the  family  wealth,  eliminated  poor  Sadako  from 
the  competition  for  his  hand. 

It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  the  Fujinami,  and 
most  of  all  to  the  ambitious  Sadako.  For  a  moment  she 
had  seen  opening  the  doorway  into  that  marvellous  world 
of  high  diplomacy,  of  European  capitals,  of  diamonds, 
duchesses  and  intrigue,  of  which  she  had  read  in  foreign 
novels,  where  everybody  is  rich,  brilliant,  immoral  and 
distinguished,  and  where  to  women  are  given  the  roles  to 
play  even  more  important  than  those  of  the  men.  This 
was  the  only  world,  she  felt,  worthy  of  her  talents ;  but 
few,  very  few,  just  one  in  a  million  Japanese  women, 
ever  gets  the  remotest  chance  of  entering  it.  This  chance 
presented  itself  to  Sadako — but  for  a  moment  only.  The 
doorway  shut  to  again ;  and  Sadako  was  left  feeling  more 
acutely  than  before  the  emptiness  of  life,  and  the  bitter- 
ness of  woman's  lot  in  a  land  where  men  are  supreme. 

Her  cousin,  Asako,  by  the  mere  luck  of  having  had  an 
eccentric  parent  and  a  European  upbringing,  possessed 
all  the  advantages  and  all  the  experience  which  the  Jap- 
anese girl  knew  only  through  the  glamorous  medium  of 
books.  But  this  Asa  San  was  a  fool.  Sadako  had  found 
that  out  at  once  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  talk  at 


FALLEN  CHERRY-BLOSSOMS  157 

the  Maple  Club  dinner.  She  was  sweet,  gentle  and  in- 
nocent ;  far  more  Japanese,  indeed,  than  her  sophisticated 
cousin.  Her  obvious  respect  and  affection  for  her  big 
rough  husband,  her  pathetic  solicitude  for  the  father 
whose  face  she  could  hardly  remember  and  for  the' 
mother  who  was  nothing  but  a  name ;  these  traits  of  char- 
acter belong  to  the  meek  Japanese  girl  of  Onna  Daigaku 
(Woman's  Great  Learning),  that  famous  classic  of  Jap- 
anese girlhood  which  teaches  the  submission  of  women 
and  the  superiority  of  men.  It  was  a  type  which  was 
becoming  rare  in  her  own  country.  Little  Asako  had 
nothing  in  common  with  the  argumentative  heroines  of 
Bernard  Shaw  or  with  the  desperate  viragos  of  Ibsen, 
to  whom  Sadako  felt  herself  spiritually  akin.  Asako 
must  be  a  fool.  She  exasperated  her  Japanese  cousin, 
who  at  the  same  time  was  envious  of  her,  envious  above 
all  of  her  independent  wealth.  As  she  observed  to  her 
own  mother,  it  was  most  improper  that  a  woman,  and 
a  young  woman  too,  should  have  so  much  money  of  her 
own.  It  would  be  sure  to  spoil  her  character. 

Meanwhile  Asako  was  a  way  of  access  to  first-hand 
knowledge  of  that  world  of  European  womanhood  which 
so  strongly  attracted  Sadako's  intelligence,  that  almost 
incredible  world  in  which  men  and  women  were  equal, 
had  equal  rights  to  property,  and  equal  rights  to  love. 
Asako  must  have  seen  enough  to  explain  something  about 
it;  if  only  she  were  not  a  fool.  But  it  appeared  that 
she  had  never  heard  of  Strindberg,  Sudermann,  or 
d'Annunzio;  and  even  Bernard  Shaw  and  Oscar  Wilde 
were  unfamiliar  names. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    FAMILY    ALTAR 

Yume  no  at  wa  (These)  meetings  in  dreams 

Kurushikari  keri!  How  sad  they  are ! 

Odorokite  When,   waking  up   startled 

Kaki-saguredomo  One  gropes  about — 

Te  ni  mo  furcneba.  And  there  is  no  contact  to  the 

hand. 

Miss  Fujinami  made  up  her  mind  to  cultivate  Asako's 
friendship,  and  to  learn  all  that  she  could  from  her.  So 
she  at  once  invited  her  cousin  to  the  mysterious  house  in 
Akasaka,  and  Asako  at  once  accepted. 

The  doors  seemed  to  fly  open  at  the  magic  of  the 
wanderer's  return.  Behind  each  partition  were  family 
retainers,  bowing  and  smiling.  Three  maids  assisted  her 
to  remove  her  boots.  There  was  a  sense  of  expectation 
and  hospitality,  which  calmed  Asako's  fluttering  shyness. 

"Welcome !  Welcome  !"  chanted  the  chorus  of  maids, 
"O  agari  nasaimashi !  (pray  step  up  into  the  house!)" 

The  visitor  was  shown  into  a  beautiful  airy  room  over- 
looking the  landscape  garden.  She  could  not  repress  an 
Ah !  of  wonder,  when  first  this  fairy  pleasance  came  in 
sight.  It  was  all  so  green,  so  tiny,  and  so  perfect, — 
the  undulating  lawn,  the  sheet  of  silver  water,  the  pigmy 
forests  which  clothed  its  shores,  its  disappearance  round 
a  shoulder  of  rock  into  that  hinterland  of  high  trees  which 
closed  the  vista  and  shut  out  the  intrusion  of  the  squalid 
city. 

[The  Japanese  understand  better  than  we  do  the  mes- 
meric effects  of  sights  and  sounds.  It  was  to  give  her 
time  to  assimilate  her  surroundings  that  Asako  was  left 
alone  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  while  Sadako  and  her  mother 
were  combing  their  hair  and  putting  their  kimonos 
straight.  Tea  and  biscuits  were  brought  for  her,'but  her 

158 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  159 

fancy  was  astray  in  the  garden.  Already  to  her  imagina- 
tion a  little  town  had  sprung  up  along  the  shingles  of  the 
tiny  bay  which  faced  her ;  the  sails  of  white  ships  were 
glimpsing  where  the  sunlight  struck  the  water  ;  and  from 
round  the  rock  promontory  she  could  catch  the  shimmer 
of  the  Prince's  galleon  with  its  high  poop  and  stern 
covered  with  solid  gold.  He  was  on  his  way  to  rescue 
the  lady  who  was  immured  in  the  top  of  the  red  pagoda 
on  the  opposite  hill. 

Asako's  legs  were  getting  numb.  She  had  been  sitting 
on  them  in  correct  Japanese  fashion  all  this  time.  She 
was  proud  of  the  accomplishment,  which  she  considered 
must  be  hereditary,  but  she  could  not  keep  it  up  for  much 
longer  than  half  an  hour.  Sadako's  mother  entered. 

"Asa  San  is  welcome." 

Much  bowing  began,  in  which  Asako  felt  her  disad- 
vantage. The  long  lines  of  the  kimono,  with  the  big 
sash  tied  behind,  lend  themselves  with  peculiar  grace  to 
the  squatting  bow  of  Japanese  intercourse.  But  Asako, 
in  the  short  blue  jacket  of  her  tailor-made  serge,  felt 
that  her  attitude  was  that  of  the  naughty  little  boys  in 
English  picture  books,  bending  over  for  castigation. 

Mrs.  Fujinami  wore  a  perfectly  plain  kimono,  blackish- 
brown  in  colour,  with  a  plain  gold  sash.  It  is  considered 
correct  for  middle-aged  ladies  in  Japan  to  dress  with 
modesty  and  reserve.  She  was  tall  for  a  Japanese  woman 
and  big-boned,  with  a  long  lantern-face,  and  an  almost 
Jewish  nose.  The  daughter  was  of  her  mother's  build. 
But  her  face  was  a  perfect  oval,  the  melon-seed  shape 
which  is  so  highly  esteemed  in  her  country.  The  severity 
of  her  appearance  was  increased,  by  her  blue-tinted 
spectacles ;  and  like  so  many  Japanese  women,  her  teeth 
were  full  of  gold  stopping.  She  was  resplendent  in  blue, 
the  blue  of  the  Mediterranean,  with  fronds  of  cherry- 
blossom  and  floating  pink  petals  designed  round  her 
skirts  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  long  exaggerated  sleeves. 
The  sash  of  broad  stiff  brocade  shone  with  light  blue  and 
silver  in  a  kind  of  conventional  wave  pattern.  This  was 
tied  at  the  back  with  a  huge  bow,  which  seemed  perched 


160  KIMONO 

upon  its  wearer  like  a  gigantic  butterfly  alighting  on  a 
cornflower.  Her  straight  black  hair  was  parted  on  one 
side  in  "foreign"  style.  But  her  mother  wore  the  helmet- 
like  marumage,  the  edifice  of  conservative  taste  in  married 
women,  which  looks  more  like  a  wig  than  like  natural 
hair. 

Rings  sparkled  on  Sadako's  fingers,  and  she  wore  a 
diamond  ornament  across  her  sash;  but  neither  their 
taste  nor  their  quality  impressed  her  cousin.  Her  face 
was  of  the  same  ivory  tint  as  Asako's,  but  it  was  hidden 
under  a  lavish  coating  of  liquid  powder.  This  hideous 
embellishment  covers  not  only  the  Mongolian  yellow, 
which  every  Japanese  woman  seems  anxious  to  hide, 
but  also  the  natural  and  charming  nuances  of  young  skin, 
under  a  white  monotonous  surface  like  a  mask  of  clay. 
Painted  roses  bloomed  on  the  girl's  cheeks.  The  eye- 
brows were  artificially  darkened  as  well  as  the  lines  round 
the  eyes.  The  face  and  its  expression,  in  fact,  were 
quite  obscured  by  cosmetics ;  and  Miss  Fujinami  was 
wrapped  in  a  cloud  of  cheap  scent  like  a  servant-girl  on 
her  evening  out. 

She  spoke  English  well.  In  fact,  at  school  she  had 
achieved  a  really  brilliant  career,  and  she  had  even  at- 
tended a  University  for  a  time  with  the  intention  of 
reading  for  a  degree,  an  attainment  rare  among  Japanese 
girls.  But  overwork  brought  on  its  inevitable  result. 
Books  had  to  be  banished,  and  glasses  interposed  to  save 
the  tired  eyes  from  the  light.  It  was  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment for  Sadako,  who  was  a  proud  and  ambitious 
girl,  and  it  had  not  improved  her  disposition. 

After  the  first  formalities  Asako  was  shown  round 
the  house.  The  sameness  of  the  rooms  surprised  her. 
There  was  nothing  to  distinguish  them  except  the  dif- 
ferent woods  used  in  their  ceilings  and  walls,  a  distinc- 
tion which  betrayed  its  costliness  and  its  taste  only  to 
the  practised  eye.  Each  room  was  spotless  and  absolute- 
ly bare,  with  golden  tatami,  rice-straw  mats  with  edg- 
ings of  black  braid,  fixed  into  the  flooring,  by  whose 
number  the  size  of  a  Japanese  room  is  measured.  Asako 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  161 

admired  the  pale  white  shoji,  the  sliding  windows  of 
opaque  glowing  paper  along  the  side  of  the  room  open 
to  the  outdoor  light,  the  fusuma  or  sliding  partitions  be- 
tween room  and  room,  set  in  the  framework  of  the  house, 
some  of  them  charmingly  painted  with  sketches  of 
scenery,  flowers,  or  people,  some  of  them  plain  cream- 
coloured  boards  flecked  with  tiny  specks  of  gold. 

Nothing  broke  the  sameness  of  these  rooms  except  the 
double  alcove,  or  tokonoma  with  its  inevitable  hanging 
picture,  its  inevitable  ornament,  and  its  spray  of  blossom. 
Between  the  double  niche  stood  that  pillar  of  wood  which 
Sadako  explained  as  being  the  soul  of  the  room,  the  lead- 
ing feature  from  which  its  character  was  taken,  being 
either  plain  and  firm,  or  twisted  and  ornate,  or  else  still 
unshaped,  with  the  bosses  of  amputated  branches  seared 
and  black  protesting  against  confinement.  The  tokonoma, 
as  the  word  suggests,  must  originally  have  been  the 
sleeping-place  of  the  owner  of  the  room,  for  it  certainly 
is  the  only  corner  in  a  Japanese  house  which  is  secured 
from  draughts.  But  perhaps  it  was  respect  for  invisible 
spirits  which  drove  the  sleeper  eventually  to  abandon 
his  coign  of  vantage  to  the  service  of  aesthetic  beauty, 
and  to  stretch  himself  on  the  open  floor. 

To  Asako  the  rooms  seemed  all  the  same.  Each  gave 
the  same  impression  of  spotlessness  and  nudity.  Each 
was  stiffly  rectangular  like  the  honey  squares  fitted  into 
a  hive.  Above  all,  there  was  nothing  about  any  of  them 
to  indicate  their  individual  use,  or  the  character  of  the 
person  to  whom  they  were  specially  assigned.  No 
dining-room,  or  drawing-room,  or  library. 

"Where  is  your  bedroom?"  asked  Asako,  with  a  frank 
demand  for  that  sign  of  sisterhood  among  Western  girls ; 
"I  should  so  like  to  see  it." 

"I  generally  sleep,"  answered  the  Japanese  girl,  "in 
that  room  at  the  corner  where  we  have  been  already, 
where  the  bamboo  pictures  are.  This  is  the  room  where 
father  and  mother  sleep." 

They  were  standing  on  the  balcony  outside  the  apart- 
ment where  Asako  had  first  been  received. 


162  KIMONO 

"But  where  are  the  beds?"  she  asked. 

Sadako  went  to  the  end  of  the  balcony,  and  threw  open 
a  big  cupboard  concealed  in  the  outside  of  the  house.  It 
was  full  of  layers  of  rugs,  thick,  dark  and  wadded. 

"These  are  the  beds,"  smiled  the  Japanese  cousin. 
"My  brother  Takeshi  has  a  foreign  bed  in  his  room ;  but 
my  father  does  not  like  them,  or  foreign  clothes,  or 
foreign  food,  or  anything  foreign.  He  says  the  Japanese 
things  are  best  for  the  Japanese.  But  he  is  very  old- 
fashioned." 

"Japanese  style  looks  nicer,"  said  Asako,  thinking  how 
big  and  vulgar  a  bedstead  would  appear  in  that  clean 
emptiness  and  how  awkwardly  its  iron  legs  would 
trample  on  the  straw  matting;  "but  isn't  it  draughty 
and  uncomfortable?" 

"I  like  the  foreign  beds  best,"  said  Sadako;  "my 
brother  has  let  me  try  his.  It  is  very  soft." 

So  in  this  country  of  Asako's  fathers,  a  bedstead  was 
lent  for  trial  as  though  it  had  been  some  fascinating 
novelty,  a  bicycle  or  a  piano. 

The  kitchen  appealed  most  to  the  visitor.  It  was  the 
only  room  to  her  mind  which  had  any  individuality  of 
its  own.  It  was  large,  dark  and  high,  full  of  servant- 
girls  scuttering  about  like  little  mice,  who  bowed  and 
then  fled  when  the  two  ladies  came  in.  The  stoves  for 
boiling  the  rice  interested  Asako,  round  iron  receptacles 
like  coppers,  each  resting  on  a  brick  fireplace.  Every- 
thing was  explained  to  her:  the  high  dressers  hung  with 
unfamiliar  implements  in  white  metal  and  white  wood: 
the  brightly  labelled  casks  of  sake  and  shoyu  (sauce) 
waiting  in  the  darkness  like  the  deputation  of  a  friendly 
society  in  its  insignia  of  office :  the  silent  jars  of  tea, 
greenish  in  colour  and  ticketed  with  strange  characters, 
the  names  of  the  respective  tea-gardens :  the  iron  kettle 
hanging  on  gibbet  chains  from  the  top  of  the  ceiling  over 
a  charcoal  fire  sunk  in  the  floor;  the  tasteful  design 
of  the  commonest  earthenware  bowl :  the  little  board 
and  chopper  for  slicing  the  raw  fish :  the  clean  white 
rice-tubs  with  their  brass  bindings  polished  and  shining : 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  163 

the  odd  shape  and  entirely  Japanese  character  which 
distinguished  the  most  ordinary  things,  and  gave  to  the 
short  squat  knives  a  romantic  air  and  to  the  broad 
wooden  spoons  a  suggestion  of  witchcraft :  finally,  the 
little  shrine  to  the  Kitchen  God,  perched  on  a  shelf  close 
to  the  ceiling,  looking  like  the  fagade  of  a  doll's  temple, 
and  decorated  with  brass  vases,  dry  grasses,  and  strips  of 
white  paper.  The  wide  kitchen  was  impregnated  with  a 
smell  already  familiar  to  Asako's  nose,  one  of  the  most 
typical  odours  of  Japan,  the  smell  of  native  cooking, 
humid,  acrid  and  heavy  like  the  smell  of  wood  smoke 
from  damp  logs,  with  a  sour  and  rotten  flavour  to  it 
contributed  by  a  kind  of  pickled  horse-radish  called 
Daikon  or  the  Great  Root,  dear  to  the  Japanese  palate. 

The  central  ceremony  of  Asako's  visit  was  her  intro- 
duction to  the  memory  of  her  dead  parents.  She  was 
taken  to  a  small  room,  where  the  alcove,  the  place  of 
honour,  was  occupied  by  a  closed  cabinet,  the  butsudan 
(Buddha  shelf),  a  beautiful  piece  of  joiner's  work  in  a 
kind  of  lattice  pattern  covered  with  red  lacquer  and 
gold.  Sadako,  approaching,  reverently  opened  this 
shrine.  The  interior  was  all  gilt  with  a  dazzling  gold 
like  that  used  on  old  manuscripts.  In  the  centre  of  this 
glory  sat  a  golden-faced  Buddha  with  dark  blue  hair 
and  cloak,  and  an  aureole  of  golden  rays.  Below  him 
were  arranged  the  thai,  the  Tablets  of  the  Dead,  minia- 
ture grave-stones  about  one  foot  high,  with  a  black 
surface  edged  with  gold  upon  which  were  inscribed  the 
names  of  the  dead  persons,  the  new  names  given  by  the 
priests. 

Sadako  stepped  back  and  clapped  her  hands  together 
three  times,  repeating  the  formula  of  the  Nichiren  Sect 
of  Buddhists. 

"Namu  myoho  renge  kyo!  (Adoration  to  the  Wonderful 
Law  of  the  Lotus  Scriptures!)" 

She  instructed  Asako  to  do  the  same. 

"For,"  she  said,  "we  believe  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead 
people  are  here ;  and  we  must  be  very  good  to  them." 

Asako  did  as   she  was  told,   wondering  whether  her 


164  KIMONO 

confessor  would  give  her  penance  for  idolatry.  Sadako 
then  motioned  her  to  sit  on  the  floor.  She  took  one  of 
the  tablets  from  its  place  and  placed  it  in  front  of  her 
cousin. 

"That  is  your  father's  ihai,"  she  said ;  and  then  removing 
another  and  placing  it  beside  the  first,  she  added, — 

"This  is  your  mother." 

Asako  was  deeply  moved.  In  England  we  love  our 
dead ;  but  we  consign  them  to  the  care  of  nature,  to  the 
change  of  the  seasons,  and  the  cold  promiscuity  of  the 
graveyard.  The  Japanese  dead  never  seem  to  leave  the 
shelter  of  their  home  or  the  circle  of  tneir  family.  We 
bring  to  our  dear  ones  flowers  and  prayers ;  but  the 
Japanese  give  them  food  and  wine,  and  surround  them 
with  everyday  talk.  The  companionship  is  closer.  We 
chatter  much  about  immortality.  We  believe,  many  of 
US',  in  some  undying  particle.  We  even  think  that  in 
some  other  world  the  dead  may  meet  the  dead  whom, 
they  have  known  in  life.  But  the  actual  communion, 
of  the  dead  and  the  living  is  for  us  a  beautiful  and 
inspiring  metaphor  rather  than  a  concrete  belief.  Now 
the  Japanese,  although  their  religion  is  so  much  vaguer 
than  ours,  hardly  question  this  survival  of  the  ancestors 
in  the  close  proximity  of  their  children  and  grandchildren. 
The  little  funeral  tablets  are  for  them  clothed  with  an 
invisible  personality. 

"This  is  your  mother." 

Asako  felt  influences  floating  around  her.  Her  mind 
was  in  pain,  straining  to  remember  something  which 
seemed  to  be  not  wholly  forgotten. 

Just  at  this  moment  Mrs.  Fujinami  arrived,  carrying 
an  old  photograph  album  and  a  roll  of  silk.  Her  appear- 
ance was  so  opportune  that  any  one  less  innocent  than 
Asako  might  have  suspected  that  the  scene  had  been  re- 
hearsed. In  the  hush  and  charm  of  that  little  chamber 
of  the  spirits,  the  face  of  the  elder  woman  looked  soft  and 
sweet.  She  opened  the  volume  at  the  middle,  and  pushed 
it  in  front  of  Asako. 

She  saw  the  photograph  of  a  Japanese  girl  seated  in  a 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  165 

chair  with  a  man  standing  at  her  side,  with  one  hand 
resting  on  the  chair  back.  Her  father's  photograph  she 
recognised  at  once,  the  broad  forehead,  the  deep  eyes,  the 
aquiline  nose,  the  high  cheek  bones,  and  the  thin,  angry 
sarcastic  lips;  not  a  typically  Japanese  face,  but  a  type 
recurrent  throughout  our  over-educated  world,  cultured, 
desperate  and  stricken.  Asako  had  very  little  in  com- 
mon with  her  father ;  for  his  character  had  been  moulded 
or  warped  by  two  powerful  agencies,  his  intellect  and 
his  disease ;  and  it  was  well  for  his  daughter  that  she  had 
escaped  this  dire  inheritance.  But  never  before  had  she 
seen  her  mother's  face.  Sometimes  she  had  wondered 
who  and  what  her  mother  had  been ;  what  she  had 
thought  of  as  her  baby  grew  within  her ;  and  with  what 
regrets  she  had  exchanged  her  life  for  her  child's.  More 
often  she  had  considered  herself  as  a  being  without  a 
mother,  a  fairy's  child,  brought  into  this  world  on  a  sun- 
beam or  born  from  a  flower. 

Now  she  saw  the  face  which  had  reflected  pain  and 
death  for  her.  It  was  impassive,  doll-like  and  very 
young,  pure  oval  in  outline,  but  lacking  in  expression. 
The  smallness  of  the  mouth  was  the  most  characteristic 
feature,  but  it  was  not  alive  with  smiles  like  her 
daughter's.  It  was  pinched  and  constrained,  with  the 
lower  lips  drawn  in. 

The  photograph  was  clearly  a  wedding  souvenir.  She 
wore  the  black  kimono  of  a  bride,  and  the  multiple  skirts. 
A  kind  of  little  pocket-book  with  silver  charms  dangling 
from  it,  an  ancient  marriage  symbol,  was  thrust  into  the 
opening  at  her  breast.  Her  head  was  covered  with  a 
curious  white  cap  like  the  "luggage"  of  Christmas 
crackers.  She  was  seated  rigidly  at  the  edge  of  her 
uncomfortable  chair;  and  her  personality  seemed  to  be 
overpowered  by  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

"Did  she  love  him,"  her  daughter  wondered,  "as  I  love 
Geoffrey?" 

Through  Sadako's  interpretation  Mrs.  Fujinami  ex- 
plained that  Asako's  mother's  name  had  been  Yamagata 
Haruko  (Spring  child).  Her  father  had  been  a  samurai 


166  KIMONO 

in  the  old  two-sworded  days.  The  photograph  was  not 
very  like  her.  It  was  too  serious. 

"Like  you,"  said  the  elder  woman,  "she  was  always 
laughing  and  happy.  My  husband's  father  used  to  call 
her  the  Semi  (the  cicada),  because  she  was  always  sing- 
ing her  little  song.  She  was  chosen  for  your  father 
because  he  was  so  sad  and  wrathful.  They  thought  that 
she  would  make  him  more  gentle.  But  she  died ;  and  then 
he  became  more  sad  than  before." 

Asako  was  crying  very  gently.  She  felt  the  touch  of 
her  cousin's  hand  on  her  arm.  The  intellectual  Miss 
Sadako  also  was  weeping,  the  tears  furrowing  her 
whitened  complexion.  The  Japanese  are  a  very  emo- 
tional race.  The  women  love  tears ;  and  even  the  men 
are  not  averse  from  this  very  natural  expression  of 
feeling,  which  our  Anglo-Saxon  schooling  has  condemned 
as  babyish.  Mrs.  Fujinami  continued, — 

"I  saw  her  a  few  days  before  you  were  born.  They 
lived  in  a  little  house  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  One 
could  see  the  boats  passing.  It  was  very  damp  and  cold. 
She  talked  all  the  time  of  her  baby.  'If  it  is  a  boy,'  she 
said,  'everybody  will  be  happy ;  if  it  is  a  girl,  Fujinami 
San  will  be  very  anxious  for  the  family's  sake ;  and  the 
fortune-tellers  say  that  it  will  surely  be  a  little  girl. 
But,'  she  used  to  say,  'I  could  play  better  with  a  little 
girl;  I  know  what  makes  them  laugh!'  When  you  were 
born  she  became  very  ill.  She  never  spoke  again,  and  in 
a  few  days  she  died.  Your  father  became  like  a  madman, 
he  locked  the  house,  and  would  not  see  any  of  us ;  and  as 
soon  as  you  were  strong  enough,  he  took  you  away  in  a 
ship." 

Sadako  placed  in  front  of  her  cousin  the  roll  of  silk, 
and  said, — 

"This  is  Japanese  obi  (sash).  It  belonged  to  your 
mother.  She  gave  it  to  my  mother  a  short  time  before 
you  were  born ;  for  she  said,  'It  is  too  bright  for  me 
now ;  when  I  have  my  baby,  I  shall  give  up  society,  and 
I  shall  spend  all  my  time  with  my  children.'  My  mother 
gives  it  to  you  for  your  mother's  sake." 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  167 

It  was  a  wonderful  work  of  art,  a  heavy  golden  bro- 
cade, embroidered  with  fans,  and  on  each  fan  a  Japanese 
poem  and  a  little  scene  from  the  olden  days. 

"She  was  very  fond  of  this  obi;  she  chose  the  poems 
herself." 

But  Asako  was  not  admiring  the  beautiful  workman- 
ship. She  was  thinking  of  the  mother's  heart  which  had 
beat  for  her  under  that  long  strip  of  silk,  the  little 
Japanese  mother  who  "would  have  known  how  to  make 
her  laugh."  Tears  were  falling  very  quietly  on  to  the  old 
sash. 

The  two  Japanese  women  saw  this ;  and  with  the  in- 
stinctive tact  of  their  race,  they  left  her  alone  face  to 
face  with  this  strange  introduction  to  her  mother's  per- 
sonality. 

There  is  a  peculiar  pathos  about  the  clothes  of  the 
dead.  They  are  so  nearly  a  part  of  our  bodies  that  it 
seems  unnatural  almost  that  they  should  survive  with 
the  persistence  of  inanimate  things,  when  we  who  gave 
them  the  semblance  of  life  are  far  more  dead  than  they. 
It  would  be  more  seemly,  perhaps,  if  all  these  things 
which  have  belonged  to  us  so  intimately  were  to  perish 
with  us  in  a  general  suttee.  But  the  mania  for  relics 
would  never  tolerate  so  complete  a  disappearance  of  one 
whom  we  had  loved;  and  our  treasuring  of  hair  and 
ornaments  and  letters  is  a  desperate — and  perhaps  not 
an  entirely  vain — attempt  to  check  the  liberated  spirit 
in  its  leap  for  eternity. 

Asako  found  in  that  old  garment  of  her  mother's  a 
much  more  faithful  reflection  of  the  life  which  had  been 
transmitted  to  her,  than  the  stiff  photograph  could  ever 
realise.  She  had  chosen  the  poems  herself.  Asako  must 
get  them  transcribed  and  translated;  for  they  would  be 
a  sure  indication  of  her  mother's  character.  Already  the 
daughter  could  see  that  her  mother  too  must  have  loved 
rich  and  beautiful  things,  happiness  and  laughter. 

Old  Mr.  Fujinami  had  called  her  "the  Semi,"  Asako 
did  not  yet  know  the  voice  of  the  little  insects  which 
are  the  summer  and  autumn  orchestra  of  Japan.  But 


168  KIMONO 

she  knew  that  it  must  be  something  happy  and  sweet; 
or  they  would  not  have  told  her. 


She  rose  from  her  knees,  and  found  her  cousin  waiting 
for  her  on  the  veranda.  Whatever  real  expression  she 
may  have  had  was  effectively  hidden  behind  the  tinted 
glasses,  and  the  false  white  complexion,  now  renovated 
from  the  ravages  of  emotion.  But  Asako's  heart  was 
won  by  the  power  of  the  dead,  of  whom  Sadako  and  her 
family  were,  she  felt,  the  living  representatives. 

Asako  took  both  of  her  cousin's  hands  in  her  own. 

"It  was  sweet  of  you  and  your  mother  to  give  me  that," 
she  said — and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears — "you  could 
not  have  thought  of  anything  which  would  please  me 
more." 

The  Japanese  girl  was  on  the  point  of  starting  to  bow 
and  smile  the  conventional  apologies  for  the  worthless- 
ness  of  the  gift,  when  she  felt  herself  caught  by  a  power 
unfamiliar  to  her,  the  power  of  the  emotions  of  the  West. 

The  pressure  on  her  wrists  increased,  her  face  was 
drawn  down  towards  her  cousin's,  and  she  felt  against 
the  corner  of  her  mouth  the  warm  touch  of  Asako's  lips. 

She  started  back  with  a  cry  of  "lya!  (don't!),"  the  cry 
of  outraged  Japanese  femininity.  Then  she  remembered 
from  her  readings  that  such  kissings  were  common 
among  European  girls,  that  they  were  a  compliment  and 
a  sign  of  affection.  But  she  hoped  that  it  had  not  dis- 
arranged her  complexion  again ;  and  that  none  of  the 
servants  had  seen. 

Her  cousin's  surprise  shook  Asako  out  of  her  dream ; 
and  the  kiss  left  a  bitter  powdery  taste  upon  her  lips 
which  disillusioned  her. 

"Shall  we  go  into  the  garden?"  said  Sadako,  who  felt 
that  fresh  air  was  advisable. 

They  joined  hands ;  so  much  familiarity  was  permitted 
by  Japanese  etiquette.  They  went  along  the  gravel  path 
to  the  summit  of  the  little  hillock  where  the  cherry-trees 
had  lately  been  in  bloom,  Sadako  in  her  bright  kimono, 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  169 

Asako  in  her  dark  suit.  She  looked  like  a  mere  mortal 
being  introduced  to  the  wonders  of  Titania's  country  by 
an  authentic  fairy. 

The  sun  was  setting  in  the  clear  sky,  one  half  of  which 
was  a  tempest  of  orange,  gold  and  red,  and  the  other  half 
warm  and  calm  with  roseate  reflections.  Over  the  spot 
where  the  focus  point  of  all  this  glory  was  sinking  into 
darkness,  a  purple  cloud  hovered  like  a  shred  of  the  mon- 
arch's glory  caught  and  torn  away  on  the  jag  of  some 
invisible  obstruction.  Its  edges  were  white  flame,  as 
though  part  or  the  sun's  fire  were  hidden  behind  it. 

Even  from  this  high  position  little  could  be  seen 
beyond  the  Fujinami  enclosure  except  tree-tops.  Away 
down  the  valley  appeared  the  grey  scaly  roofs  of  huddled 
houses,  and  on  a  hill  opposite  more  trees  with  the  bizarre 
pinnacle  of  a  pagoda  forcing  its  way  through  the  midst 
of  them.  It  looked  like  a  series  of  hats  perched  one  on 
the  top  of  the  other  by  a  merchant  of  Petticoat  Lane. 

Lights  were  glimpsing  from  the  Fujinami  mansion; 
more  lights  were  visible  among  the  shrubberies  below. 
This  soft  light,  filtered  through  the  paper  walls,  shone 
like  a  luminous  pearl.  This  is  the  home  light  of  the 
Japanese,  and  is  as  typical  of  their  domesticity  as  the 
blazing  log-fire  is  of  ours.  It  is  greenish,  still  and  pure, 
like  a  glow-worm's  beacon. 

Out  of  the  deep  silence  a  bell  tolled.  It  was  as  though 
an  unseen  hand  had  struck  the  splendour  of  that  metallic 
firmament;  or  as  though  a  voice  had  spoken  out  of  the 
sunset  cloud. 

The  two  girls  descended  to  the  brink  of  the  lake.  Here 
at  the  farther  end  the  water  was  broader;  and  it  was 
hidden  from  view  of  the  houses.  Green  reeds  grew  along 
the  margin,  and  green  iris  leaves,  like  sword  blades, 
black  now  in  the  failing  light.  There  was  a  studied 
roughness  in  the  tiny  landscape,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
wilderness  a  little  hut. 

"What  a  sweet  little  summer-house !"  cried  Asako. 

It  looked  like  a  settler's  shack,  built  of  rough,  un- 
shapen  logs  and  thatched  with  rushes. 


170  KIMONO 

"It  is  the  room  for  the  chanoyu,  the  tea-ceremony," 
said  her  cousin. 

Inside,  the  walls  were  daubed  with  earth ;  and  a  round 
window  barred  with  bamboo  sticks  gave  a  view  into 
what  was  apparently  forest  depths. 

"Why,  it  is  just  like  a  doll's  house,"  cried  Asako,  de- 
lighted. "Can  we  go  in?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Japanese.  Asako  jumped  in  at  once 
and  squatted  down  on  the  clean  matting;  but  her  more 
cautious  cousin  dusted  the  place  with  her  handkerchief 
before  risking  a  stain. 

"Do  you  often  have  tea-ceremonies?"  asked  Asako. 

The  Muratas  had  explained  to  her  long  ago  something 
about  the  mysterious  rites. 

"Two  or  three  times  in  the  Spring,  and  then  two  or 
three  times  in  the  Autumn.  But  my  teacher  comes  every 
week." 

"How  long  have  you  been  learning?"  Asako  wanted 
to  know. 

"Oh,  since  I  was  ten  years  old  about.** 

"Is  it  so  difficult  then?"  said  Asako,  who  had  found 
it  comparatively  easy  to  pour  out  a  cup  of  drawing-room 
tea  without  clumsiness. 

Sadako  smiled  tolerantly  at  her  cousin's  naive  ignor- 
ance of  things  aesthetic  and  intellectual.  It  was  as 
though  she  had  been  asked  whether  music  or  philoso- 
phy were  difficult. 

"One  can  never  study  too  much,"  she  said,  "one  is 
always  learning;  one  can  never  be  perfect.  Life  is  short, 
art  is  long." 

"But  it  is  not  an  art  like  painting  or  playing  the  piano, 
just  pouring  out  tea?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  Sadako  smiled  again,  "it  is  much  more  than 
that.  We  Japanese  do  not  think  art  is  just  to  be  able  to 
do  things,  showing  off  like  geisha.  Art  is  in  the  character, 
in  the  spirit.  And  the  tea-ceremony  teaches  us  to  make 
our  character  full  of  art,  by  restraining  everything  ugly 
and  common,  in  every  movement,  in  the  movement  of 
our  hands,  in  the  position  of  our  feet,  in  the  looks  of  our 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  171 

faces.  Men  and  women  ought  not  to  sit  and  move  like 
animals ;  but  the  shape  of  their  bodies,  and  their  way  of 
action  ought  to  express  a  poetry.  That  is  the  art  of  the 
chanoyu." 

"I  should  like  to  see  it,"  said  Asako,  excited  by  her 
cousin's  enthusiasm,  though  she  hardly  understood  a 
word  of  what  she  had  been  saying. 

"You  ought  to  learn  some  of  it,"  said  Sadako,  with 
the  zeal  of  a  propagandist.  "My  teacher  says — and  my 
teacher  was  educated  at  the  court  of  the  Tokugawa 
Shogun — that  no  woman  can  have  really  good  manners, 
if  she  has  not  studied  the  chanoyu." 

Of  course,  there  was  nothing  which  Asako  would  like 
more  than  to  sit  in  this  fascinating  arbour  in  the  warm 
days  of  the  coming  summer,  and  play  at  tea-parties  with 
her  new-found  Japanese  cousin.  She  would  learn  to 
speak  Japanese,  too;  and  she  would  help  Sadako  with 
her  French  and  English. 

The  two  cousins  worked  out  the  scheme  for  their  future 
intimacy  until  the  stars  were  reflected  in  the  lake  and 
the  evening  breeze  became  too  cool  for  them. 

Then  they  left  the  little  hermitage  and  continued  their 
walk  around  the  garden.  They  passed  a  bamboo  grove, 
whose  huge  plumes,  black  in  the  darkness,  danced  and 
beckoned  like  the  Erl-king's  daughters.  They  passed 
a  little  house  shuttered  like  a  Noah's  Ark,  from  which 
came  a  monotonous  moaning  sound  as  of  some  one  in 
pain,  and  the  rhythmic  beat  of  a  wooden  clapper. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Asako. 

"That  is  my  father's  brother's  house.  But  he  is  illegiti- 
mate brother ;  he  is  not  of  the  true  family.  He  is  a 
very  pious  man.  He  repeats  the  prayer  to  Buddha  ten 
thousand  times  every  day ;  and  he  beats  upon  the  mokugyo 
a  kind  of  drum  like  a  fish  which  the  Buddhist  priests 
use." 

"Was  he  at  the  dinner  last  nigrht?"  asked  Asako. 

"Oh  no,  he  never  goes  out.  He  has  not  once  left  that 
house  for  ten  years.  He  is  perhaps  rather  mad;  but  it 
is  said  that  he  brings  good  luck  to  the  family." 


172  KIMONO 

A  little  farther  on  they  passed  two  stone  lanterns, 
cold  and  blind  like  tombstones.  Stone  steps  rose  be- 
tween them  to  what  in  the  darkness  looked  like  a  large 
dog-kennel.  A  lighted  paper  lantern  hung  in  front  of  it 
like  a  great  ripe  fruit. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Asako. 

In  the  failing  twilight  this  fairy  garden  was  becoming 
more  and  more  wonderful.  At  any  moment,  she  felt  she 
might  meet  the  Emperor  himself  in  the  white  robes  of 
ancient  days  and  the  black  coal-scuttle  hat. 

"That  is  a  little  temple,"  explained  her  cousin,  "for 
Inari  Sama." 

At  the  top  of  the  flight  of  steps  Asako  distinguished 
two  stone  foxes.  Their  expression  was  hungry  and 
malign.  They  reminded  her  of — what?  She  remembered 
the  little  temple  outside  the  Yoshiwara  on  the  day  she 
had  gone  to  see  the  procession. 

"Do  you  say  prayers  there?"  she  asked  her  companion. 

"No,  /  do  not,"  answered  the  Japanese,  "but  the  ser- 
vants light  the  lamp  every  evening;  and  we  believe  it 
makes  the  house  lucky.  We  Japanese  are  very  supersti- 
tious. Besides,  it  looks  pretty  in  the  garden." 

"I  don't  like  the  foxes'  faces,"  said  Asako,  "they  look 
bad  creatures." 

"They  are  bad  creatures,"  was  the  reply,  "nobody  likes 
to  see  a  fox;  they  fool  people." 

"Then  why  say  prayers,  if  they  are  bad?" 

"It  is  just  because  they  are  bad,"  said  Sadako,  "that 
we  must  please  them.  We  flatter  them  so  that  they  may 
not  hurt  us." 

Asako  was  unlearned  in  the  difference  between  religion 
and  devil-worship,  so  she  did  not  understand  the  full 
significance  of  this  remark.  But  she  felt  an  unpleasant 
reaction,  the  first  which  she  had  received  that  day ;  and 
she  thought  to  herself  that  if  she  were  the  mistress  of 
that  lovely  garden,  she  would  banish  the  stone  foxes 
and  risk  their  displeasure. 

The  two  girls  returned  to  the  house.  Its  shutters  were 
up,  and  it,  too,  had  that  same  appearance  of  a  Noah's 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR  173 

Ark  but  of  a  more  complete  and  expensive  variety. 
One  little  opening  was  left  in  the  wooden  armature  for 
the  girls  to  enter  by. 

"Please  come  again  many,  many  times,"  was  cousin 
Sadako's  last  farewell.  "The  house  of  the  Fujinami  is 
your  home.  Sayonaral" 


Geoffrey  was  waiting  for  his  wife  in  the  hall  of  the 
hotel.  He  was  anxious  at  her  late  return.  His  embrace 
seemed  to  swallow  her  up  to  the  amusement  of  the 
boy  sans  who  had  been  discussing  the  lateness  of  okusan, 
and  the  possibility  of  her  having  an  admirer. 

"Thank  goodness,"  said  Geoffrey,  "what  have  you  been 
doing?  I  was  just  going  to  organise  a  search  party." 

"I  have  been  with  Mrs.  Fujinami  and  Sadako,"  Asako 
panted,  "they  would  not  let  me  go;  and  oh!" — She  was 
going  to  tell  him  all  about  her  mother's  picture ;  but  she 
suddenly  checked  herself,  and  said  instead,  "They've 
got  such  a  lovely  garden." 

She  described  the  home  of  the  cousins  in  glowing 
colours,  the  hospitality  of  the  family,  the  cleverness  of 
cousin  Sadako,  and  the  lessons  which  they  were  going  to 
exchange.  Yes,  she  replied  to  Geoffrey's  questions,  she 
had  seen  the  memorial  tablets  of  her  father  and  mother, 
and  their  wedding  photograph.  But  a  strange  paralysis 
sealed  her  lips,  and  her  soul  became  inarticulate.  She 
found  herself  absolutely  incapable  of  telling  that  big 
foreign  husband  of  hers,  truly  as  she  loved  him,  the 
veritable  state  of  her  emotions  when  brought  face  to 
face  with  her  dead  parents. 

Geoffrey  had  never  spoken  to  her  of  her  mother.  He 
had  never  seemed  to  have  the  least  interest  in  her 
identity.  These  "Jap  women,"  as  he  called  them,  were 
never  very  real  to  him.  She  dreaded  the  possibility  of 
revealing  to  him  her  secret,  and  then  of  receiving  no 
response  to  her  emotion.  Also  she  had  an  instinctive 
reluctance  to  emphasise  in  Geoffrey's  mind  her  kinship 
with  these  alien  people. 


174  KIMONO 

After  dinner,  when  she  had  gone  up  to  her  room, 
Geoffrey  was  left  alone  with  his  cigar  and  his  reflections. 

"Funny  that  she  did  not  speak  more  about  her  father 
and  mother.  But  I  suppose  they  don't  mean  much  to 
her,  after  all.  And,  by  Jove,  it's  a  good  thing  for  me. 
I  wouldn't  like  to  have  a  wife  who  was  all  the  time 
running  home  to  her  people,  and  comparing  notes  with 
her  mother." 

Upstairs  in  her  bedroom,  Asako  had  unrolled  the 
precious  obi.  An  unmounted  photograph  came  fluttering 
out  of  the  parcel.  It  was  a  portrait  of  her  father  alone, 
taken  a  short  time  before  his  death.  At  the  back  of 
the  photograph  was  some  Japanese  writing. 

"Is  Tanaka  there?"  Asako  asked  her  maid  Titine. 

Yes,  of  course,  Tanaka  was  there,  in  the  next  room 
with  his  ear  near  the  door. 

"Tanaka,  what  does  this  mean?" 

"Japanese  poem,"  he  said,  "meaning  very  difficult: 
very  many  meanings :  I  think  perhaps  it  means,  having 
travelled  all  over  the  world,  he  feels  very  sad." 

"Yes,  but  word  for  word,  Tanaka,  what  does  it  mean?" 

"This  writing  means,  World  is  really  not  the  same  it 
says :  all  the  world  very  many  tell  lies." 

"And  this?" 

"This  means,  Travelling  everywhere." 

"And  this  at  the  end?" 

"It  means,  Eveything  always  the  same  thing.  Very 
bad  translation  I  make.  Very  sad  poem." 

"And  this  writing  here?" 

"That  is  Japanese  name — Fujinami  Katsundo— -and  the 
date,  twenty-fifth  year  of  Meiji,  twelfth  month." 

Tanaka  had  turned  over  the  photograph  and  was  look- 
ing attentively  at  the  portrait. 

"The  honoured  father  of  Ladyship,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Asako. 

Then  she  thought  she  heard  her  husband's  step  away 
down  the  corridor.  Hurriedly  she  thrust  obi  and  photo- 
graph into  a  drawer. 

Now,  why  did  she  do  that?  wondered  Tanaka. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   DWARF    TREES 

Iwa-yado  ni  O  pinetree  standing 

Tateru  maisu  no  kit  At  the  (side  of )  the  stone  house, 

Na  wo  mircba,  When  I  look  at  you* 

Mukashi  no  hito  wo  It  is  like  seeing  face  to  face 

Ai-miru  yotashi.  The  men  of  old  time. 

FOR  the  first  time  during  the  journey  of  their  married 
lives,  Geoffrey  and  Asako  were  pursuing  different  paths. 
It  is  the  normal  thing,  no  doubt,  for  the  man  to  go  out 
to  his  work  and  to  his  play,  while  the  wife  attends  to  her 
social  and  domestic  duties.  The  evening  brings  reunion 
with  new  impressions  and  new  interests  to  discuss.  Such 
a  life  with  its  brief  restorative  separations  prevents  love 
growing  stale,  and  soothes  the  irritation  of  nerves  which, 
by  the  strain  of  petty  repetitions,  are  exasperated  some- 
times into  blasphemy  of  the  heart's  true  creed.  But  the 
Barrington  menage  was  an  unusual  one.  By  adopting  a 
life  of  travel,  they  had  devoted  themselves  to  a  pro- 
tracted honeymoon,  a  relentless  tete-a-tete.  So  long  as 
they  were  continually  on  the  move,  constantly  refreshed 
by  new  scenes,  they  did  not  feel  the  difficulty  of  their 
self-imposed  task.  But  directly  their  stay  in  Tokyo 
seemed  likely  to  become  permanent,  their  ways  separated 
as  naturally  as  two  branches,  which  have  been  tightly 
bound  together,  spread  apart  with  the  loosening  of  the 
string. 

This  separation  was  so  inevitable  that  'they  were 
neither  of  them  conscious  of  it.  Geoffrey  had  all  his 
life  been  devoted  to  exercise  and  games  of  all  kinds. 
They  were  as  necessary  as  food  for  his  big  body.  At 
Tokyo  he  had  found,  most  unexpectedly,  excellent  tennis- 
courts  and  first-class  players. 

They  still  spent  the  mornings  together,  driving  round 

175 


176  KIMONO 

the  city,  and  inspecting  curios.  So  what  could  be  more 
reasonable  than  that  Asako  should  prefer  to  spend  her 
afternoons  with  her  cousin,  who  was  so  anxious  to  please 
her  and  to  initiate  her  into  that  intimate  Japanese  life, 
which  of  course  must  appeal  to  her  more  strongly  than 
to  her  husband? 

Personally,  Geoffrey  found  the  company  of  his  Japan- 
ese relatives  exceedingly  slow. 

In  return  for  the  hospitalities  of  the  Maple  Club  the 
Barringtons  invited  a  representative  gathering  of  the 
Fujinami  clan  to  dinner  at  the  Imperial  Hotel,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  general  adjournment  to  the  theatre. 

It  was  a  most  depressing  meal.  Nobody  spoke.  All 
of  the  guests  were  nervous ;  some  of  them  about  their 
clothes,  some  about  their  knives  and  forks,  all  of  them 
about  their  English.  They  were  too  nervous  even  to 
drink  wine,  which  would  have  been  the  only  remedy  for 
such  a  "frost." 

Only  Ito,  the  lawyer,  talked,  talked  noisily,  talked  with 
his  mouth  full.  But  Geoffrey  disliked  Ito.  He  mistrusted 
the  man  ;  but,  because  of  his  wife's  growing  intimacy 
with  her  cousins,  he  felt  loath  to  start  subterranean  in- 
quiries as  to  the  whereabouts  of  her  fortune.  It  was  Ito 
who,  foreseeing  embarrassment,  had  suggested  the  thea- 
tre party  after  dinner.  For  this  at  least  Geoffrey  was 
grateful  to  him.  It  saved  him  the  pain  of  trying  to  make 
conversation  with  his  cousins. 

"Talking  to  these  Japs,"  he  said  to  Reggie  Forsyth, 
"is  like  trying  to  play  tennis  all  by  yourself." 

Later  on,  at  his  wife's  insistence,  he  attended  an  in- 
formal garden-party  at  the  Fujinami  house.  Again  he 
suffered  acutely  from  those  cruel  silences  and  porten- 
tous waitings,  to  which  he  noticed  that  even  the  Japan- 
ese among  themselves  were  liable,  but  which  apparently 
they  did  not  mind. 

Tea  and  ice-creams  were  served  by  geisha  girls  who 
danced  afterwards  upon  the  lawn.  When  this  perform- 
ance was  over  the  guests  were  conducted  to  an  open 
space  behind  the  cherry-grove,  where  a  little  shooting- 


THE  DWARF  TREES  177 

range  had  been  set  up,  with  a  target,  air-guns  and  boxes 
of  lead  lugs.  Geoffrey,  of  course,  joined  in  the  shooting- 
competition,  and  won  a  handsome  cigarette  case  inlaid 
with  Damascene  work.  But  he  thought  that  it  was  a 
poor  game ;  nor  did  he  ever  realize  that  this  entertain- 
ment had  been  specially  organized  with  a  view  to  flat- 
tering his  military  and  sporting  tastes. 

But  the  greatest  disillusionment  was  the  Akasaka  gar- 
den. Geoffrey  was  resigned  to  be  bored  by  everything 
else.  But  his  wife  had  grown  so  enthusiastic  about  the 
beauties  of  the  Fujinami  domain,  that  he  had  expected  to 
walk  straight  into  a  paradise.  What  did  he  see?  A 
dirty  pond  and  some  shrubs,  not  one  single  flower  to  break 
the  monotony  of  green  and  drab,  and  everything  so  small. 
Why,  he  could  walk  round  the  whole  enclosure  in  ten 
minutes.  Geoffrey  Barrington  was  accustomed  to  coun- 
try houses  in  England,  with  their  broad  acres  and  their 
lavish  luxuriance  of  scent  and  blossom.  This  niggling 
landscape  art  of  the  Japanese  seemed  to  him  mean  and 
insignificant. 


He  much  preferred  the  garden  at  Count  Saito's  home. 
Count  Saito,  the  late  Ambassador  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James,  with  his  stooping  shoulders,  his  grizzled  hair, 
and  his  deep  eyes  peering  under  the  gold-rimmed  specta- 
cles, had  proposed  the  health  of  Captain  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
rington at  their  wedding  breakfast.  Since  then,  he  had 
returned  to  Japan,  where  he  was  soon  to  play  a  leading 
political  role.  Meeting  Geoffrey  one  day  at  the  Em- 
bassy, he  had  invited  him  and  his  wife  to  visit  his  famous 
garden. 

It  was  a  hanging  garden  on  the  side  of  a  steep  hill, 
parted  down  the  middle  by  a  little  stream  with  its  string 
of  waterfalls.  Along  either  bank  rose  groups  of  iris, 
mauve  and  white,  whispering  together  like  long-limbed 
pre-Raphaelite  girls.  Round  a  sunny  fountain,  the  source 
of  the  stream,  just  below  the  terrace  of  the  Count's 
mansion,  they  thronged  together  more  densely,  sur- 


178  KIMONO 

rounding  the  music  of  the  water  with  the  steps  of  a  slow 
sarabande,  or  pausing  at  the  edge  of  the  pool  to  admire 
their  own  reflection. 

Count  Saito  showed  Geoffrey  where  the  roses  were 
coming  on,  new  varieties  of  which  he  had  brought  from 
England  with  him. 

"Perhaps  they  will  not  like  to  be  turned  into  Japan- 
ese," he  observed ;  "the  rose  is  such  an  English  flower." 

They  passed  on  to  where  the  azaleas  would  soon  be  in 
fiery  bloom.  For  with  the  true  gardener,  the  hidden 
promise  of  the  morrow  is  more  stimulating  to  the  enthu- 
siasm than  the  assured  success  of  the  full  flowers. 

The  Count  wore  his  rustling  native  dress ;  but  two 
black  cocker  spaniels  followed  at  his  heels.  This  com- 
bination presented  an  odd  mixture  of  English  squire- 
archy and  the  daimyo  of  feudal  Japan. 

On  the  crest  of  the  hill  above  him  rose  the  house,  a  tall 
Italianate  mansion  of  grey  stucco,  softened  by  creepers, 
jessamine  and  climbing  roses.  Alongside  ran  the  low 
irregular  roofs  of  the  Japanese  portion  of  the  residence. 
Almost  all  rich  Japanese  have  a  double  house,  half  foreign 
and  half  native,  to  meet  the  needs  of  their  amphibious 
existence.  This  grotesque  juxtaposition  is  to  be  seen  all 
over  Tokyo,  like  a  tall  boastful  foreigner  tethered  to  a 
timid  Japanese  wife. 

Geoffrey  inquired  in  which  wing  of  this  unequal  bivalve 
his  host  actually  lived. 

"When  I  returned  from  England,"  said  Count  Saito,  "I 
tried  to  live  again  in  the  Japanese  style.  But  we  could 
not,  neither  my  wife  nor  I.  We  took  cold  and  rheuma- 
tism sleeping  on  the  floor,  and  the  food  made  us  ill ;  so 
we  had  to  give  it  up.  But  I  was  sorry.  For  I  think  it  is 
better  for  a  country  to  keep  its  own  ways.  There  is  a 
danger  nowadays,  when  all  the  world  is  becoming  cosmo- 
politan. A  kind  of  international  type  is  springing  up. 
His  language  is  esperanto,  his  writing  is  shorthand,  he  has 
no  country,  he  fights  for  whoever  will  pay  him  most,  like 
the  Swiss  of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  is  the  mercenary  of 
commerce,  the  ideal  commercial  traveler.  I  am  much 


THE  DWARF  TREES  179 

afraid  of  him,  because  I  am  a  Japanese  and  not  a  world 
citizen.  I  want  my  country  to  be  great  and  respected. 
Above  all,  I  want  it  to  be  always  Japanese.  I  think  that 
loss  in  national  character  means  loss  of  national 
strength." 

Asako  was  being  introduced  by  her  hostess  to  the  cele- 
brated collection  of  dwarf  trees,  which  had  made  the 
social  fame  of  the  Count's  sojourn  as  Ambassador  in 
Grosvenor  Square. 

Countess  Saito,  like  her  husband,  spoke  excellent  Eng- 
lish ;  and  her  manner  in  greeting  Asako  was  of  London 
rather  than  of  Tokyo.  She  took  both  her  hands  and 
shook  them  warmly. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  in  her  curious  deep  hoarse  voice, 
"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you.  You  are  like  a  little  bit  of  Lon- 
don come  to  say  that  you  have  not  forgotten  me." 

This  great  Japanese  lady  was  small  and  very  plain. 
Her  high  forehead  was  deeply  lined  and  her  face  was 
marked  with  small-pox.  Her  big  mouth  opened  wide  as 
she  talked,  like  a  nestling's.  But  she  was  immensely 
rich.  The  only  child  of  one  of  the  richest  bankers  of 
Japan,  she  had  brought  to  her  husband  the  opportunity 
for  his  great  gifts  as  a  political  leader,  and  the  luxury 
in  which  they  lived. 

The  little  trees  were  in  evidence  everywhere,  decorat- 
ing the  living  rooms,  posted  like  sentinels  on  the  terrace, 
and  staged  with  the  honour  due  to  statuary  at  points  of 
vantage  in  the  garden.  But  their  chief  home  was  in  a 
sunny  corner  at  the  back  of  a  shrubbery,  where  they 
were  aligned  on  shelves  in  the  sunlight.  Three  special 
gardeners  who  attended  to  their  wants  were  grooming 
and  massaging  them,  soothing  and  titivating  them,  for 
their  temporary  appearances  in  public.  Here  they  had  a 
greenhouse  of  their  own,  kept  slightly  warmed  for  a  few 
delicate  specimens,  and  also  for  the  convalescence  of  the 
hardier  trees ;  for  these  precious  dwarfs  are  quite  human 
in  their  ailments,  their  pleasures  and  their  idiosyncracies. 

Countess  Saito  had  a  hundred  or  more  of  these  fash- 
ionable pets,  of  all  varieties  and  shapes.  There  were 


180  KIMONO 

giants  of  primeval  forests  reduced  to  the  dimensions  of  a 
few  feet,  like  the  timbers  of  a  lordly  park  seen  through 
the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope.  There  were  graceful 
maple  trees,  whose  tiny  star-like  leaves  were  particularly 
adapted  to  the  process  of  diminution  which  had  checked 
the  growth  of  trunk  and  branches.  There  were  weeping 
willows  with  light-green  feathery  foliage,  such  as  sor- 
rowing fairies  might  plant  on  the  grave  of  some  Talies- 
sin  of  Oberon's  court.  There  was  a  double  cherry  in  be- 
lated bloom ;  its  flowers  of  natural  size  hung  amid  the 
slender  branches  like  big  birds'  nests.  There  was  a 
stunted  oak  tree,  creeping  along  the  earth  with  gnarled 
and  lumpy  limbs  like  a  miniature  dinosaur;  it  waved  in 
the  air  a  clump  of  demensurate  leaves  with  the  truculent 
mien  of  boxing-gloves  or  lobsters'  claws.  In  the  centre 
of  the  rectangle  formed  by  this  audience  of  trees,  and 
raised  on  a  long  table,  was  a  tiny  wisteria  arbor,  formed 
by  a  dozen  plants  arranged  in  quincunx.  The  intertwisted 
ropes  of  branches  were  supported  on  shining  rods  of 
bamboo ;  and  the  clusters  of  blossom,  like  bunches  of 
grapes  or  like  miniature  chandeliers,  still  hung  over  the 
litter  of  their  fallen  beauty,  with  a  few  bird-like  flowers 
clinging  to  them,  pale  and  bleached. 

"They  are  over  two  hundred  years  old,"  said  their 
proud  owner,  "they  came  from  one  of  the  Emperor's 
palaces  at  Kyoto." 

But  the  pride  of  the  collection  were  the  conifers  and 
evergreens — trees  which  have  Japanese  and  Latin  names 
only,  the  hinoki,  the  enoki,  the  sasaki,  the  kcyaki,  the 
ntaki,  the  surgi  and  the  kusunoki — all  trees  of  the  dark 
funereal  families  of  fir  and  laurel,  which  the  birds  avoid, 
and  whose  deep  winter  green  in  the  summer  turns  to 
rust.  There  were  spreading  cedar  trees,  black  like  the 
tents  of  Bedouins,  and  there  were  straight  cryptomerias 
for  the  masts  of  fairy  ships.  There  was  a  strange  tree, 
whose  light-green  foliage  grew  in  round  clumps  like 
trays  of  green  lacquer  at  the  extremities  of  twisted 
branches,  a  natural  etagere.  There  were  the  distorted 
pine-trees  of  Japan,  which  are  the  symbol  of  old  age,  of 


THE  DWARF  TREES  181 

fidelity,  of  patience  under  adversity,  and  of  the  Japanese 
nation  itself,  in  every  attitude  of  menace,  curiosity,  jubi- 
lation and  gloom.  Some  of  them  were  leaning  out  of 
their  pots  and  staring  head  downwards  at  the  ground 
beneath  them ;  some  were  creeping  along  the  earth  like 
reptiles ;  some  were  mere  trunks,  with  a  bunch  of  green 
needles  sprouting  at  the  top  like  a  palm ;  some  with  one 
long  pathetic  branch  were  stretching  out  in  quest  of  the 
infinite  to  the  neglect  of  the  rest  of  the  tree ;  some  were 
tall  and  bent  as  by  some  sea  wind  blowing  shoreward. 
Streaking  a  miniature  landscape,  they  were  whispering 
together  the  tales  of  centuries  past. 

The  Japanese  art  of  cultivating  these  tiny  trees  is  a 
weird  and  unhealthy  practice,  akin  to  vivisection,  but 
without  its  excuse.  It  is  like  the  Chinese  custom  of 
dwarfing  their  women's  feet.  The  result  is  pleasing  to 
the  eye ;  but  it  hurts  the  mind  by  its  abnormality,  and 
the  heart  by  its  ruthlessness. 

Asako's  admiration,  so  easily  stirred,  became  enthusias- 
tic as  Countess  Saito  told  her  something  of  the  personal 
history  of  her  favourite  plants,  how  this  one  was  two  hun- 
dred years  old,  and  that  one  three  hundred  and  fifty,  and 
how  another  had  been  present  at  such  and  such  a  scene 
famous  in  Japanese  history. 

"Oh,  they  are  lovely,"  cried  Asako.  "Where  can  one 
get  them?  I  must  have  some." 

Countess  Saito  gave  her  the  names  of  some  well- 
known  market  gardeners. 

"You  can  get  pretty  little  trees  from  them  for  fifty  to 
a  hundred  yen  (£5  to  £10),"  she  said.  "But  of  course  the 
real  historical  trees  are  so  very  few;  they  hardly  ever 
come  on  the  market.  They  are  like  animals,  you  know. 
They  want  so  much  attention.  They  must  have  a  garden 
to  take  their  walks  in,  and  a  valet  of  their  own." 

This  great  Japanese  lady  felt  an  affection  and  sym- 
pathy for  the  girl  who,  like  herself,  had  been  set  apart  by 
destiny  from  the  monotonous  ranks  of  Japanese  women 
and  their  tedious  dependence. 

"Little  Asa  Chan,"  she  said,  calling  her  by  her  pet 


182  KIMONO 

name,  "take  care;  you  can  become  Japanese  again,  but 
your  husband  cannot." 

"Of  course  not,  he's  too  big,"  laughed  Asako ;  "but  I 
like  to  run  away  from  him  sometimes,  and  hide  behind 
the  shoji.  Then  I  feel  independent." 

"But  you  are  not  really  so,"  said  the  Japanese,  "no 
woman  is.  You  see  the  wisteria  hanging  in  the  big  tree 
there.  What  happens  when  the  big  tree  is  taken  away? 
The  wisteria  becomes  independent,  but  it  lies  along  the 
ground  and  dies.  Do  you  know  the  Japanese  name  for 
wisteria?  It  is  fnji — Fujinami  Asako.  If  you  have  any 
difficulty  ever,  come  and  talk  to  me.  You  see,  I,  too,  am  a 
rich  woman;  and  I  know  that  it  is  almost  as  difficult  to 
be  very  rich  as  it  is  to  be  very  poor." 


Captain  Barrington  and  the  ex-Ambassador  were  sit- 
ting on  one  of  the  benches  of  the  terrace  when  the  ladies 
rejoined  them. 

"Well,  Daddy,"  the  Countess  addressed  her  husband  in 
English,  "what  are  you  talking  about  so  earnestly?" 

"About  England  and  Japan,"  replied  the  Count. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  the  course  of  a  rambling  con- 
versation, Count  Saito  had  asked  his  guest : 

"Now,  what  strikes  you  as  the  most  surprising  differ- 
ence between  our  two  countries?" 

Geoffrey  pondered  for  a  moment.  He  wanted  to 
answer  frankly,  but  he  was  still  awed  by  the  canons  of 
Good  Form.  At  last  he  said:  "This  Yoshivvara  business." 

The  Japanese  statesman  seemed  surprised. 

"But  that  is  just  a  local  difference  in  the  manner  of 
regulating  a  universal  problem,"  he  said. 

"Englishmen  aren't  any  better  than  they  should  be," 
said  Geoffrey ;  "but  we  don't  like  to  hear  of  women  put 
up  for  sale  like  things  in  a  shop." 

"Then  you  have  not  actually  seen  them  yourself?" 
said  the  Count.  He  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  charac- 
teristic British  habit  of  criticising  on  hearsay. 

"Not  actually ;  but  I  saw  the  procession  last  month." 


THE  DWARF  TREES  183 

"You  really  think  that  it  is  better  to  let  immoral 
women  stray  about  the  streets  without  any  attempt  to 
control  them  and  the  crime  and  disease  they  cause?" 

"It's  not  that,"  said  Geoffrey ;  "it  seems  to  me  horrible 
that  women  should  be  put  up  to  sale  and  exposed  in 
shop  windows  ticketed  and  priced." 

Count  Saito  smiled  again  and  said : 

"I  see  that  you  are  an  idealist  like  so  many  English- 
men. But  I  am  only  a  practical  statesman.  The  problem 
of  vice  is  a  problem  of  government.  No  law  can  abolish 
it.  It  is  for  us  statesmen  to  study  how  to  restrain  it  and 
its  evil  consequences.  Three  hundred  years  ago  these 
women  used  to  walk  about  the  streets  as  they  do  in  Lon- 
don to-day.  Tokugawa  lyeyasu,  the  greatest  of  all  Jap- 
anese statesmen,  who  gave  peace  to  the  whole  country, 
put  in  order  this  untidiness  also.  He  had  the  Yoshiwara 
built,  and  he  put  all  the  women  there,  where  the  police 
could  watch  both  them  and  the  men  who  visited  them. 
The  English  might  learn  from  us  here,  I  think.  But  you 
are  an  unruly  people.  It  is  not  only  that  you  object  for 
ideal  reasons  to  the  imprisonment  of  these  women;  but 
it  is  your  men  who  would  object  very  strongly  to  having 
the  eye  of  the  policeman  watching  them  when  they  paid 
their  visits." 

Geoffrey  was  silenced  by  the  experience  of  his  host. 
He  was  afraid,  as  most  Englishmen  are,  of  arguing 
that  the  British  determination  to  ignore  vice,  however 
disastrous  in  practice,  is  a  system  infinitely  nobler  in 
conception  than  the  acquiescence  which  admits  for  the 
evil  its  right  to  exist,  and  places  it  among  the  common- 
places of  life. 

"And  how  about  the  people  who  make  money  out  of 
such  a  place?"  asked  Geoffrey.  "They  must  be  con- 
temptible specimens." 

The  face  of  the  wise  statesman  became  suddenly  gentle. 

"I  really  don't  know  much  about  them,"  he  said.  "If 
we  do  meet  them  they  do  not  boast  about  it." 


CHAPTER  XV 

EURASIA 

Mono-sugo  ya  Queer — 

Ara  omoshiro  no  Yes,  but  attractive 

Kaeri-bana.  Are  the  flowers  which  bloom 

out  of  season. 

ALTHOUGH  he  felt  a  decreasing  interest  in  the  Japanese 
people,  Geoffrey  was  enjoying  his  stay  in  Tokyo.  He  was 
tired  of  traveling,  and  was  glad  to  settle  down  in  the 
semblance  of  a  home  life. 

He  was  very  keen  on  his  tennis.  It  was  also  a  great 
pleasure  to  see  so  much  of  Reggie  Forsyth.  Besides,  he 
was  conscious  of  the  mission  assigned  to  him  by  Lady 
Cynthia  Cairns  to  save  his  friend  from  the  dangerous 
connection  with  Yae  Smith. 

Reggie  and  he  had  been  at  Eton  together.  Geoffrey, 
four  years  the  senior,  a  member  of  "Pop,"  and  an  athlete 
of  many  colours,  found  himself  one  day  the  object  of  an 
almost  idolatrous  worship  on  the  part  of  a  skinny  little 
being,  discreditably  clever  at  Latin  verses,  and  given 
over  to  the  degrading  habit  of  solitary  piano  practicing 
on  half-holidays.  He  was  embarrassed  but  touched  by  a 
devotion  which  was  quite  incomprehensible  to  him ;  and 
he  encouraged  it  furtively.  When  Geoffrey  left  Eton  the 
friends  did  not  see  each  other  again  for  some  years, 
though  they  watched  each  other's  careers  from  a  dis- 
tance, mutually  appreciative.  Their  next  meeting  took 
place  in  Lady  Everington's  drawing-room,  where  Bar- 
rington  had  already  heard  fair  ladies  praising  the  gifts 
and  graces  of  the  young  diplomat.  He  heard  him  play 
the  piano ;  and  he  also  heard  the  appreciation  of  discern- 
ing judgment.  He  heard  him  talking  with  arabesque 
agility.  It  was  Geoffrey's  turn  to  feel  on  the  wrong  side 
of  a  vast  superiority,  and  in  his  turn  he  repaid  the  old 

184 


EURASIA  185 

debt  of  admiration ;  generosity  filled  the  gulf  and  the  two 
became  firm  friends.  Reggie's  intelligence  flicked  the 
inertia  of  Geoffrey's  mind,  quickened  his  powers  of  ob- 
servation, and  developed  his  sense  of  interest  in  the  world 
around  him.  Geoffrey's  prudence  and  stolidity  had  more 
than  once  saved  the  young  man  from  the  brink  of  senti- 
mental precipices. 

For  Reggie's  unquestionable  musical  talent  found  its 
nourishment  in  love  affairs  dangerously  unsophisticated. 
He  refused  to  consider  marriage  with  any  of  the  sweet 
young  things,  who  would  gladly  have  risked  his  luke- 
warm interest  for  the  chance  of  becoming  an  Ambassa- 
dor's wife.  He  equally  avoided  pawning  his  youth  to  any 
of  the  maturer  married  ladies,  whose  status  and  charac- 
ter, together  with  those  of  their  husbands,  license  them 
to  practice  as  certificated  Egerias.  His  dangerous  pen- 
chant was  for  highly  spiced  adventuresses,  and  for  pas- 
toral amourettes,  wistful  and  obscure.  But  he  never 
gave  away  his  heart ;  he  lent  it  out  at  interest.  He  re- 
ceived it  again  intact,  with  the  profit  of  his  musical  in- 
spiration. Thus  his  liaison  with  Veronique  Gerson  pro- 
duced the  publication  of  Les  demi-jours,  a  series  of  musi- 
cal poems  which  placed  him  at  once  in  the  forefront  of 
young  composers ;  but  it  also  alarmed  the  Foreign  Office, 
which  was  paternally  interested  in  Reggie's  career.  This 
brought  about  his  banishment  to  Japan.  The  Attente 
d'hiver,  now  famous,  is  his  candid  musical  confession  that 
the  coma  inflicted  upon  him  by  Veronique's  unconcern 
was  merely  the  drowsiness  of  the  waiting  earth  before 
the  New  Year  brought  back  the  old  story. 

Reggie  would  never  be  attracted  to  native  women ; 
and  he  had  not  the  dry  inquisitiveness  of  his  predecessor, 
Aubrey  Laking,  which  might  induce  him  to  buy  and 
keep  a  woman  for  whom  he  felt  no  affection.  The  love 
which  can  exchange  no  thoughts  in  speech  was  alto- 
gether too  crude  for  him.  It  was  his  emotions,  rather 
than  his  senses,  which  were  always  craving  for  amorous 
excitement.  His  frail  body  claimed  merely  its  right  to 
follow  their  lead,  as  a  little  boat  follows  the  strong  wind 


186  KIMONO 

which  fills  its  sails.  But  ever  since  he  had  loved  Geof- 
frey Barrington  at  Eton  it  was  a  necessity  for  his  nature 
to  love  some  one ;  and  as  the  haze  of  his  young  concep- 
tions cleared,  that  some  one  became  necessarily  a  woman. 
He  soon  recognized  the  wisdom  of  the  Foreign  Office 
in  choosing  Japan.  It  was  a  starvation  diet  which  had 
been  prescribed  for  him.  So  he  settled  down  to  his  mem- 
ories and  to  L'attente  d'hiver,  thinking  that  it  would  be 
two  long  years  or  more  before  his  Spring  blossomed 
again. 


Then  he  heard  the  story  of  the  duel  fought  for  Yae 
Smith  by  two  young  English  officers,  both  of  them  her 
lovers,  so  people  said,  and  the  vaguer  tale  of  a  fiance's 
suicide.  Some  weeks  later,  he  met  her  for  the  first  time 
at  a  dance.  She  was  the  only  woman  present  in  Japanese 
dress,  and  Reggie  thought  at  once  of  Asako  Barrington. 
How  wise  of  these  small  women  to  wear  the  kimono 
which  drapes  so  gracefully  their  stumpy  figures.  He 
danced  with  her,  his  right  hand  lodged  somewhere  in  the 
folds  of  the  huge  bow  with  the  embroidered  peacock, 
which  covered  her  back.  Under  this  stiff  brocade  he 
could  feel  no  sensation  of  a  living  body.  She  seemed  to 
have  no  bones  in  her,  and  she  was  as  light  as  a  feather. 
It  was  then  that  he  imagined  her  as  Lilith,  the  snake- 
girl.  She  danced  with  ease,  so  much  better  than  he,  that 
at  the  end  of  a  series  of  cannons  she  suggested  that  they 
might  sit  out  the  dance.  She  guided  him  into  the  garden, 
and  they  took  possession  of  a  rustic  seat.  In  the  ball- 
room she  had  seemed  timid,  and  had  spoken  in  under- 
tones only;  but  in  this  shadowy  tetc-a-tetc  beneath  the 
stars,  she  began  to  talk  frankly  about  her  own  life. 

She  told  him  about  her  one  visit  to  England  with  her 
father ;  how  she  had  loved  the  country,  and  how  dull  it 
was  for  her  here  in  Japan.  She  asked  him  about  his 
music.  She  would  so  like  to  hear  him  play.  There  was 
an  old  piano  at  her  home.  She  did  not  think  he  would 
like  it  very  much — indeed,  Reggie  was  already  shudder- 


EURASIA  187 

ing  in  anticipation — or  else?  Would  she  come  to  tea 
with  him  at  the  Embassy?  That  would  be  nice!  She 
could  bring  her  mother  or  one  of  her  brothers?  She 
would  rather  come  with  a  girl  friend.  Very  well,  to- 
morrow? 

On  the  morrow  she  came. 

Reggie  hated  playing  in  public.  He  said  that  it  was 
like  stripping  naked  before  a  multitude,  or  like  having 
to  read  one's  own  love  letters  aloud  in  a  divorce  court. 
But  there  is  nothing  more  soothing  than  to  play  to  one 
attentive  listener,  especially  if  that  listener  be  feminine 
and  if  the  interest  shown  be  that  personal  interest,  which 
with  so  many  women  takes  the  place  of  true  apprecia- 
tion, and  which  looks  over  the  art  to  the  artist. 

Yae  came  with  the  girl  friend,  a  lean  and  skinny  half- 
caste  girl  like  a  gipsy,  whom  Yae  patronized.  She  came 
once  again  with  the  girl  friend ;  and  then  she  came  alone. 

Reggie  was  relieved,  and  said  so.  Yae  laughed  and 
replied: 

"But  I  brought  her  for  your  own  sake ;  I  always  go 
everywhere  by  myself." 

"Then  please  don't  take  me  into  consideration  ever 
again,"  answered  Reggie. 

So  those  afternoons  began  which  so  soon  darkened 
into  evenings,  while  Reggie  sat  at  the  piano  playing  his 
thoughts  aloud,  and  the  girl  lay  on  the  sofa  or  squatted 
on  the  big  cushion  by  the  fire,  with  cigarettes  within 
reach  and  a  glass  of  liqueur,  wrapped  in  an  atmosphere 
of  laziness  and  well-being  such  as  she  had  never  known 
before.  Then  Reggie  would  stop  playing.  He  would  sit 
down  beside  her,  or  he  would  take  her  on  his  knee ;  and 
they  would  talk. 

He  talked  as  poets  talk,  weaving  stories  out  of  nothing, 
finding  laughter  and  tears  in  what  she  would  have  passed 
by  unnoticed.  She  talked  to  him  about  herself,  about 
the  daily  doings  of  her  home,  its  sadness  and  isolation 
since  her  father  died.  He  had  been  the  playfellow  of  her 
childhood.  He  had  never  grudged  his  time  or  his  money 
for  her  amusement.  She  had  been  brought  up  like  a  lit- 


188  KIMONO 

tie  princess.  She  had  been  utterly  spoiled.  He  had  trans- 
ferred to  her  precocious  mind  his  love  of  excitement,  his 
inquisitiveness,  his  courage  and  his  lack  of  scruple ;  and 
then,  when  she  was  sixteen,  he  had  died,  leaving  as  his 
last  command  to  the  Japanese  wife  who  would  obey  him 
in  death  as  she  had  obeyed  him  living,  the  strict  injunc- 
tion that  Yae  was  to  have  her  own  way  always  and  in 
everything. 

He  left  a  respectable  fortune,  a  Japanese  widow  and 
two  worthless  sons. 

Poor  Yae!  Surrounded  by  the  friends  and  amusements 
of  an  English  girl's  life,  the  qualities  of  her  happy  dis- 
position might  have  borne  their  natural  fruit.  But  at  her 
father's  death  she  found  herself  isolated,  without  friends 
and  without  amusements.  She  found  herself  marooned 
on  the  island  of  Eurasia,  a  flat  and  barren  land  of  nar- 
row confines  and  stunted  vegetation.  The  Japanese  have 
no  use  for  the  half-castes ;  and  the  Europeans  look  down 
upon  them.  They  dwell  apart  in  a  limbo  of  which  Baron- 
ess Miyazaki  is  the  acknowledged  queen. 

Baroness  Miyazaki  is  a  stupendous  old  lady,  whose 
figure  might  be  drawn  from  some  eighteenth-century 
comedy.  Her  late  husband — and  gossip  says  that  she 
was  his  landlady  during  a  period  of  study  in  England — 
held  a  high  position  in  the  Imperial  Court.  His  wife,  by 
a  pomposity  of  manner  and  an  assumption  of  superior 
knowledge,  succeeded,  where  no  other  white  woman  has 
succeeded,  in  acquiring  the  respect  and  intimacy  of  the 
great  ladies  of  Japan.  She  has  inculcated  the  accents  of 
Pentonville,  with  its  aitches  dropped  and  recovered 
again,  among  the  high  Japanese  aristocracy. 

But  first  her  husband  died ;  and  then  the  old  Imperial 
Court  of  the  Emperor  Meiji  passed  away.  So  Baroness 
Miyazaki  had  to  retire  from  the  society  of  princesses. 
She  passed  not  without  dignity,  like  an  old  monarch 
en  disponibilitt,  to  the  vacant  throne  of  the  Eurasian 
limbo,  where  her  rule  is  undisputed. 

Every  Friday  afternoon  you  may  see  her  presiding 
over  her  little  court  in  the  Miyazaki  mansion,  with  its 


EURASIA  189 

mixture  of  tinsel  and  dust.  The  Bourbonian  features, 
the  lofty  white  wig,  the  elephantine  form,  the  rustling 
taffeta,  and  the  ebony  stick  with  its  ivory  handle,  leads 
one's  thoughts  backwards  to  the  days  of  Richardson  and 
Sterne. 

But  her  loyal  subjects  who  surround  her — it  is  impos- 
sible to  place  them.  They  are  poor,  they  are  untidy,  they 
are  restless.  Their  black  hair  is  straggling,  their  brown 
eyes  are  soft,  their  clothes  are  desperately  European,  but 
ill-fitting  and  tired.  They  chatter  together  ceaselessly 
and  rapidly  like  starlings,  with  curious  inflections  in  their 
English  speech,  and  phrases  snatched  up  from  the  ver- 
nacular. They  are  forever  glancing  and  whispering, 
bursting  at  times  into  wild  peals  of  laughter  which  lack 
the  authentic  ring  of  gladness.  They  are  a  people  of 
shadows  blown  by  the  harsh  winds  of  destiny  across 
the  face  of  a  land  where  they  can  find  no  permanent  rest- 
ing place.  They  are  the  children  of  Eurasia,  the  unhap- 
piest  people  on  earth. 

It  was  among  these  people  that  Yae's  lot  was  cast.  She 
stepped  into  an  immediate  ascendancy  over  them,  thanks 
to  her  beauty,  her  personality  and,  above  all,  to  her 
money.  Baroness  Miyazaki  saw  at  once  that  she  had  a 
rival  in  Eurasia.  She  hated  her,  but  waited  calmly  for 
the  opportunity  to  assist  in  her  inevitable  collapse,  a 
woman  of  wide  experience  watching  the  antics  of  a  girl 
innocent  and  giddy,  the  Baroness  playing  the  part  of 
Elizabeth  of  England  to  Yae's  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 

Meanwhile,  Yae  was  learning  what  the  Eurasian  girls 
were  whispering  about  so  continually — love  affairs,  in- 
trigues with  secretaries  of  South  American  legations, 
secret  engagements,  disguised  messages. 

This  seed  fell  upon  soil  well-prepared.  Her  father  had 
been  a  reprobate  till  the  day  of  his  death,  when  he  had 
sent  for  his  favourite  Japanese  girl  to  come  and  massage 
the  pain  out  of  his  wasted  body.  Her  brothers  had  one 
staple  topic  of  conversation  which  they  did  not  hesitate 
to  discuss  before  their  sister — geisha,  assignation  houses, 
and  the  licensed  quarters.  Yae's  mind  was  formed  to 


190  KIMONO 

the  idea  that  for  grown-up  people  there  is  one  absorbing 
distraction,  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  company  of  the 
opposite  sex. 

There  was  no  talk  in  the  Smith's  home  of  the  romance 
of  marriage,  of  the  love  of  parents  and  children,  which 
might  have  turned  this  precocious  preoccupation  in  a 
healthy  direction.  The  talk  was  of  women  all  the  time, 
of  women  as  instruments  of  pleasure.  Nor  could  Mrs. 
Smith,  the  Japanese  mother,  guide  her  daughter's  steps. 
She  was  a  creature  of  duty,  dry-featured  and  self-effaced. 
She  did  her  utmost  for  her  children's  physical  wants,  she 
nursed  them  devotedly  in  sickness,  she  attended  to  their 
clothes  and  to  their  comforts.  But  she  did  not  attempt 
to  influence  their  moral  ideas.  She  had  given  up  any 
hope  of  understanding  her  husband.  She  schooled  her- 
self to  accept  everything  without  surprise.  Poor  man ! 
He  was  a  foreigner  and  had  a  fox  (i.e.  he  was  possessed)  ; 
and  unfortunately  his  children  had  inherited  this  incor- 
rigible animal. 

To  please  her  daughter  she  opened  up  her  house  for 
hospitality  with  unseemly  promptitude  after  her  hus- 
band's death.  The  Smiths  gave  frequent  dances,  well- 
attended  by  young  people  of  the  Tokyo  foreign  commun- 
ity. At  the  first  of  these  series,  Yae  listened  to  the  pas- 
sionate pleadings  of  a  young  man  called  Hoskin,  a  clerk 
in  an  English  firm.  On  the  second  opportunity  she  be- 
came engaged  to  him.  On  the  third,  she  was  struck  with 
admiration  and  awe  by  a  South  American  diplomat  with 
the  green  ribbon  of  a  Bolivian  order  tied  across  his  false 
shirt  front.  Don  Quebrado  d'Acunha  was  a  practiced 
hand  at  seduction  and  Ya6  became  one  of  his  victims 
soon  after  her  seventeenth  birthday,  and  just  ten  days 
before  her  admirer  sailed  away  to  rejoin  his  legitimate 
spouse  in  Guayaquil.  The  engagement  with  Hoskin  still 
lingered  on;  but  the  young  man,  who  adored  her  was 
haggard  and  pale.  Ya6  had  a  new  follower,  a  teacher 
of  English  in  a  Japanese  school,  who  recited  beautifully 
and  wrote  poetry  about  her. 


EURASIA  191 

Then  Baroness  Miyazaki  judged  that  her  time  was 
ripe.  She  summoned  young  Hoskin  into  her  dowager 
presence,  and,  with  a  manner  heavily  maternal,  she 
warned  him  against  the  lightness  of  his  fiancee.  When 
he  refused  to  believe  evil  of  her  she  produced  a  pathetic 
letter  full  of  half-confessions,  which  the  girl  herself  had 
written  to  her  in  a  moment  of  expansion.  A  week  later 
the  young  man's  body  was  washed  ashore  near  Yoko- 
hama. 

Yae  was  sorry  to  hear  of  the  accident ;  but  she  had 
long  ceased  to  be  interested  in  Hoskin,  the  reticence  of 
whose  passion  had  seemed  like  a  touch  of  ice  to  her 
fevered  nerves.  But  this  was  Baroness  Miyazaki's  op- 
portunity to  discredit  Yae,  to  crush  her  rival  out  of  seri- 
ous competition,  and  to  degrade  her  to  the  demi-monde. 
It  was  done  promptly  and  ruthlessly ;  for  the  Baroness's 
gossip  carried  weight  throughout  the  diplomatic,  profes- 
sional and  missionary  circles,  even  where  her  person  was 
held  in  ridicule.  The  facts  of  Hoskin's  suicide  became 
known.  Nice  women  dropped  Yae  entirely ;  and  bad  men 
ran  after  her  with  redoubled  zest.  Yae  did  not  realize 
her  ostracism. 

The  Smith's  dances  next  winter  became  so  many  com- 
petitions for  the  daughter's  corruption,  and  were  ren- 
dered brilliant  by  the  presence  of  several  of  the  young 
officers  attached  to  the  British  Embassy,  who  made  the 
running,  and  finally  monopolized  the  prize. 

Next  year  the  Smiths  acquired  a  motor-car  which  soon 
became  Yae's  special  perquisite.  She  would  disappear 
for  whole  days  and  nights.  None  of  her  family  could 
restrain  her.  Her  answer  to  all  remonstrances  was : 

"You  do  what  you  want ;  I  do  what  I  want." 

That  summer  two  English  officers  whom  she  especially 
favoured  fought  a  duel  with  pistols — for  her  beauty  or 
for  her  honour.  The  exact  motive  remained  unknown.  One 
was  seriously  wounded ;  and  both  of  them  had  to  leave 
the  country. 

Yae  was  grieved  by  this  sudden  loss  of  both  her  lovers. 
It  left  her  in  a  condition  of  double  widowhood  from 


192  KIMONO 

which  she  was  most  anxious  to  escape.  But  now  she  was 
becoming  more  fastidious.  The  school  teachers  and  the 
dagos  fascinated  her  no  longer.  Her  soldier  friends  had 
introduced  her  into  Embassy  circles,  and  she  wished  to 
remain  there.  She  fixed  on  Aubrey  Laking  for  her  next 
attempt,  but  from  him  she  received  her  first  rebuff. 
Having  lured  him  into  a  tete-a-tete,  as  her  method  was, 
she  asked  him  for  counsel  in  the  conduct  of  her  life. 

"If  I  were  you,"  he  said  dryly,  "I  should  go  to  Paris  or 
New  York.  You  will  find  much  more  scope  there." 

Fortunately  fate  soon  exchanged  Aubrey  Laking  for 
Reggie  Forsyth.  He  was  just  what  suited  her — for  a 
time.  But  a  certain  impersonality  in  his  admiration,  his 
fits  of  reverie,  the  ascendancy  of  music  over  his  mind, 
made  her  come  to  regret  her  more  masculine  lovers.  And 
it  was  just  at  this  moment  of  dissatisfaction  that  she  first 
saw  Geoffrey  Barrington,  and  thought  how  lovely  he 
would  look  in  his  uniform.  From  that  moment  desire 
entered  her  heart.  Not  that  she  wanted  to  lose  Reggie ; 
the  peace  and  harmony  of  his  surroundings  soothed  her 
like  a  warm  and  scented  bath.  But  she  wanted  both. 
She  had  had  two  before,  and  had  found  them  compli- 
mentary to  one  another  and  agreeable  to  her.  She 
wanted  to  sit  on  Geoffrey's  knee  and  to  feel  his  strong 
arms  round  her.  But  she  must  not  be  too  sudden  in  her 
advances,  or  she  would  lose  him  as  she  had  lost  Laking. 

It  is  easy  to  condemn  Yae  as  a  bad  girl,  a  born  cocotte. 
Yet  such  a  judgment  would  not  be  entirely  equitable. 
She  was  a  laughter-loving  little  creature,  a  child  of  the 
sun.  She  never  sought  to  do  harm  to  anybody.  Rather 
was  she  over-amiable.  She  wished  above  all  to  make 
her  men  friends  happy  and  to  be  pleasing  in  their  eyes. 
She  was  never  swayed  by  mercenary  motives.  She  was 
to  be  won  by  admiration,  by  good  looks,  and  by  personal 
distinction,  but  never  by  money.  If  she  tired  of  her 
lovers  somewhat  rapidly,  it  was  as  a  child  tires  of  a 
game  or  of  a  book,  and  leaves  it  forgotten  to  start  another. 

She  was  a  child  with  bad  habits,  rather  than  a  mature 
sinner.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that,  because  Geof- 


EURASIA  193 

frey  Barrington  was  married,  he  at  least  ought  to  be 
immune  from  her  attack.  In  her  dreams  of  an  earthly 
paradise  there  was  no  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage, 
only  the  sweet  mingling  of  breath,  the  quickening  of 
the  heart-beats  like  the  pulsation  of  her  beloved  motor- 
car, the  sound  as  of  violin  arpeggios  rising  higher  and 
ever  higher,  the  pause  of  the  ecstatic  moment  when  the 
sense  of  time  is  lost — and  then  the  return  to  earth  on 
lazy  languorous  wings  like  a  sea-gull  floating  motion- 
less on  a  shoreward  breeze.  Such  was  Yae"'s  ideal  of 
Love  and  of  Life  too.  It  is  not  for  us  to  condemn  Yae\ 
but  rather  should  we  censure  the  blasphemy  of  mixed 
marriages  which  has  brought  into  existence  these  thistle- 
down children  of  a  realm  which  has  no  kings  or  priests 
or  laws  or  Parliaments  or  duty  or  tradition  or  hope 
for  the  future,  which  has  not  even  an  acre  of  dry  ground 
for  its  heritage  or  any  concrete  symbol  of  its  soul — the 
Cimmerian  land  of  Eurasia. 

Reggie  Forsyth  understood  the  pathos  of  the  girl's 
position;  and  being  a  rebel  and  an  anarchist  at  heart, 
he  readily  condoned  the  faults  which  she  confided  to 
him  frankly.  Gradually  Pity,  most  dangerous  of  all 
counsellors,  revealed  her  to  him  as  a  girl  romantically 
unfortunate,  who  never  had  a  fair  chance  in  life,  who 
had  been  the  sport  of  bad  men  and  fools,  who  needed 
only  a  measure  of  true  friendship  and  affection  for 
the  natural  sunshine  of  her  disposition  to  scatter  the 
rank  vapours  of  her  soul's  night.  What  Reggie  grasped 
only  in  that  one  enlightened  moment  when  he  had 
christened  her  Lamia,  was  the  tragic  fact  that  she  had 
no  soul. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  GREAT  BUDDHA 

Tsuki-yo  yoshi  The  sea-shore  of  Mitsu ! 

Tachitsu  itsu  netsu  Standing,    sitting    or    lying 

Mitsu-no-hama.  down, 

How  lovely  is  the  moonlight 
night ! 

BEFORE  the  iris  had  quite  faded,  and  before  the  azaleas 
of  Hibiya  were  set  ablaze — in  Japan  they  count  the 
months  by  the  blossoming  of  the  flowers — Reggie  Forsyth 
had  deserted  Tokyo  for  the  joys  of  sea  bathing  at  Kama- 
kura.  He  attended  at  the  Embassy  for  office  hours  dur- 
ing the  morning,  but  returned  to  the  seaside  directly 
after  lunch.  This  departure  disarranged  Geoffrey's 
scheme  for  his  friend's  salvation ;  for  he  was  not  pre- 
pared to  go  the  length  of  sacrificing  his  daily  game  of 
tennis. 

"What  do  you  want  to  leave  us  for?"  he  remonstrated. 

"The  bathing,"  said  Reggie,  "is  heavenly.  Besides, 
next  month  I  have  to  go  into  villegiatura  with  my  chief. 
I  must  prepare  myself  for  the  strain  with  prayer  and 
fasting.  But  why  don't  you  come  down  and  join  us?" 

"Is  there  any  tennis?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"There  is  a  court,  a  grass  court  with  holes  in  it;  but 
I've  never  seen  anybody  playing." 

"Then  what  is  there  to  do?" 

"Oh,  bathing  and  sleeping  and  digging  in  the  sand  and 
looking  at  temples  and  bathing  again;  and  next  week 
there  is  a  dance." 

"Well,  we  might  come  down  for  that  if  her  Ladyship 
agrees.  How  is  Lamia?" 

"Don't  call  her  that,  please.  She  has  got  a  soul  after 
all.  But  it  is  rather  a  disobedient  one.  It  runs  away  like 

194 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  195 

a  little  dog,  and  goes  rabbit-hunting  for  days  on  end. 
She  is  in  great  form.  We  motor  in  the  moon  light." 

"Then  1  think  it  is  quite  time  I  did  come,"  said  Geof- 
frey. 

bo  the  Barringtons  arrived  in  their  sumptuous  car  on 
the  afternoon  before  the  dance  of  which  Reggie  Forsyth 
had  spoken. 

On  the  beach  they  found  him  in  a  blue  bathing-costume 
sitting  under  an  enormous  paper  umbrella  with  Miss 
Smith  and  the  gipsy  half-caste  girl.  Yae  wore  a  cotton 
kimono  of  blue  and  white,  and  she  looked  like  a  figurine 
from  a  Nanking  vase. 

"Geoffrey,"  said  the  young  diplomat,  "come  into  the 
sea  at  once.  You  look  thoroughly  dirty.  Do  you  like 
sea-bathing,  Mrs.  Barrington?" 

"I  have  only  paddled,"  said  Asako,  "when  I  was  a  little 
girl." 

Geoffrey  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  the  blue 
water  and  the  lazy  curling  waves.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
two  men  were  walking  down  to  the  sea's  edge,  Geoffrey 
laughing  at  Reggie's  chatter.  His  arms  were  akimbo, 
with  hands  on  the  hips,  hips  which  looked  like  the  boles 
of  a  mighty  oak-tree.  He  touched  the  ground  with  the 
elasticity  of  Mercury ;  he  pushed  through  the  air  with  the 
shoulders  of  Hercules.  The  line  of  his  back  was  pliant 
as  a  steel  blade.  In  his  hair  the  sun's  reflection  shone  like 
wires  of  gold.  The  Gods  were  come  down  in  the  sem- 
blance of  men. 

Yae  did  not  repress  a  sharp  intake  of  her  breath;  and 
she  squeezed  the  hand  of  the  gipsy  girl  as  if  pain  had 
gripped  her. 

"How  big  your  husband  is !"  she  said  to  Asako.  "What 
a  splendid  man!" 

Asako  thought  of  her  husband  as  "dear  old  Geoffrey." 
She  never  criticized  his  points;  nor  did  she  think  that 
Yae's  admiration  was  in  very  good  taste.  However,  she 
accepted  it  as  a  clumsy  compliment  from  an  uneducated 
girl  who  knew  no  better.  The  gipsy  companion  watched 


196  KIMONO 

with  a  peculiar  smile.  She  understood  the  range  of 
Yae's  admiration. 

"Isn't  it  a  pity  they  have  to  wear  bathing  dress?"  Miss 
Smith  went  on.  "It's  so  ugly.  Look  at  the  Japanese." 

Farther  along  the  beach  some  Japanese  men  were 
bathing.  They  threw  their  clothes  down  on  the  sand  and 
ran  into  the  water  with  nothing  on  their  bodies  except 
a  strip  of  white  cotton  knotted  round  the  loins.  They 
dashed  into  the  sea  with  their  arms  lifted  above  their 
head,  shouting  wildly  like  savage  devotees  calling  upon 
their  gods.  The  sea  sparkled  like  silver  round  their 
tawny  skin.  Their  torsos  were  well  formed  and  hardy; 
their  dwarfed  and  ill-shaped  legs  were  hidden  by  the 
waves.  Certainly  they  presented  an  artistic  contrast 
with  the  sodden  blue  of  the  foreigners'  bathing  suits. 
But  Asako,  brought  up  to  the  strict  ideals  of  convent 
modesty,  said : 

"I  think  it's  disgusting;  the  police  ought  to  stop;those 
people  bathing  with  no  clothes  on." 

The  dust  and  sun  of  the  motor  ride,  the  constant  anx- 
iety lest  they  might  run  over  some  doddering  old  woman 
or  some  heedless  child,  had  given  her  a  headache.  As 
soon  as  Geoffrey  returned  from  his  dip,  she  announced 
that  she  would  go  back  to  her  room. 

As  the  headache  continued,  she  abandoned  the  idea  of 
dancing.  She  would  go  to  bed,  and  listen  to  the  music 
in  the  distance.  Geoffrey  wished  to  stay  with  her,  but 
she  would  not  hear  of  it.  She  knew  that  her  husband 
was  fond  of  dancing;  she  thought  that  the  change  and 
the  brightness  would  be  good  for  him. 

"Don't  flirt  with  Yae  Smith,"  she  smiled,  as  he  gave  her 
the  last  kiss,  "or  Reggie  will  be  jealous." 

At  first  Geoffrey  was  bored.  He  did  not  know  many 
of  the  dancers,  business  people  from  Yokohama,  most  of 
them,  or  strangers  stopping  at  the  hotel.  Their  appear- 
ance depressed  him.  The  women  had  hard  faces,  the 
lustre  was  gone  from  their  'hair,  they  wore  ill-fitting 
dresses  without  style  or  charm.  The  men  were  gross, 
heavy-limbed  and  plethoric.  The  music  was  appalling.  It 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  197 

was  produced  out  of  a  piano,  a  cello,  and  a  violin  driven 
by  three  Japanese  who  cared  nothing  for  time  or  tune. 
Each  dance,  evidently,  was  timed  to  last  ten  minutes. 
At  the  end  of  the  ten  minutes  the  music  stopped  without 
finishing  the  phrase  or  even  the  bar ;  and  the  movement 
of  the  dancers  was  jerked  into  stability. 

Reggie  entered  the  room  with  Yae  Smith.  His  man- 
ner was  unusually  excited  and  elate. 

"Hello,  Geoffrey,  enjoying  yourself  ?" 

"No,"  said  Geoffrey,  "my  wife  has  got  a  headache ;  and 
that  music  is  simply  awful." 

"Come  and  have  a  drink,"  proposed  Reggie. 

He  took  them  aside  into  the  bar  and  ordered  cham- 
pagne. 

"This  is  to  drink  our  own  healths,"  he  announced, 
"and  many  years  of  happiness  to  all  of  us.  It  is  also, 
Geoffrey,  to  drive  away  your  English  spleen,  and  to  make 
you  into  an  agreeable  grass-widower  into  whose  hands  I 
may  commend  this  young  lady,  because  you  can  dance 
and  I  cannot.  My  evening  is  complete.  This  is  my  Nunc 
Dimittis." 

He  led  them  back  to  the  ballroom.  Then,  with  a  low 
bow  and  a  flourish  of  an  imaginary  cocked-hat,  he  dis- 
appeared. 

Geoffrey  and  Yae  danced  together.  Then  they  sat  out  a 
dance ;  and  then  they  danced  again.  Yae  was  tiny,  but 
she  danced  well ;  and  Geoffrey  was  used  to  a  small  part- 
ner. For  Yae  it  was  sheer  delight  to  feel  the  size  and 
strength  of  this  giant  man  bending  over  her  like  a  shel- 
tering tree ;  and  then  to  be  lifted  almost  in  his  arms  and 
to  float  on  tiptoe  over  the  floor  with  the  delightful  airi- 
ness of  dreams. 

What  strange  orgies  our  dances  are!  To  the  critical 
mind  what  a  strange  contradiction  to  our  sheepish  pas- 
sion-hiding conventions !  A  survival  of  the  corrobborree, 
of  the  immolation  of  the  tribal  virgins,  a  ritual  handed 
down  from  darkest  antiquity  like  the  cult  of  the  Christ- 
mas Tree  and  the  Easter  Egg;  only  their  significance  is 
lost,  while  that  of  the  dance  is  transparently  evident. 


198  KIMONO 

Maidens  as  chaste  as  Artemis,  wives  as  loyal  as  Lucre- 
tia  pass  into  the  arms  of  men  who  are  scarcely  known  to 
them  with  touchings  of  hands  and  legs,  with  crossings  of 
breath,  to  the  sound  of  music  aphrodisiac  or  fescennine. 

The  Japanese  consider,  not  unreasonably,  that  our 
dancing  is  disgusting. 

A  nice  girl  no  doubt,  and  a  nice  man  too,  thinks  of  a 
dance  as  a  graceful  exercise  or  as  a  game  like  tennis  or 
hockey.  But  Yae  was  not  a  nice  girl;  and  when  the 
music  stopped  with  its  hideous  abruptness,  it  awoke  her 
from  a  kind  of  trance  in  which  she  had  been  lost  to  all 
sensations  except  the  grip  of  Geoffrey's  hand  and  arm, 
the  stooping  of  his  shadow  above  her,  and  the  tingling 
of  her  own  desire. 

Geoffrey  left  his  partner  at  the  end  of  their  second 
dance.  He  went  upstairs  to  see  his  wife.  He  found  her 
sleeping  peacefully;  so  he  returned  to  the  ballroom 
again.  He  looked  in  at  the  bar,  and  drank  another  glass 
of  champagne.  He  was  beginning  to  enjoy  himself. 

He  could  not  find  Yae,  so  he  danced  with  the  gipsy 
girl,  who  had  a  stride  like  a  kangaroo.  Then  Yae  re- 
appeared. They  had  two  more  dances  together,  and  an- 
other glass  of  champagne.  The  night  was  fine.  There 
was  a  bright  moonlight.  Geoffrey  remarked  that  it  was 
jolly  hot  for  dancing.  Yae  suggested  a  stroll  along  the 
seashore ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  standing  to- 
gether on  the  beach. 

"Oh !    Look  at  the  bonfires,"  cried  Yae. 

A  few  hundred  yards  down  the  sea-front,  where  the 
black  shadows  of  the  native  houses  overhung  the  beach, 
the  lighted  windows  gleamed  softly  like  flakes  of  mica. 
The  fishermen  were  burning  seaweed  and  jetsam  for 
ashes  which  would  be  used  as  fertilizer.  Tongues  of  fire 
were  flickering  skywards.  It  was  a  blue  night.  The  sky 
was  deep  blue,  and  the  sea  an  oily  greenish  blue.  Blue 
flames  of  salt  danced  and  vanished  over  the  blazing 
heaps.  The  savage  figures  squatting  round  the  fires 
were  dressed  in  tunics  of  dark  blue  cloth.  Their  legs 
were  bare.  Their  healthy  faces  lit  up  by  the  blaze  were 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  199 

the  color  of  ripe  apricots.  Their  attitudes  and  move- 
ments were  those  of  apes.  The  elder  men  were  chatter- 
ing together ;  the  younger  ones  were  gazing  into  the  fire 
with  an  expression  of  healthy  stupor.  A  boat  was  com- 
ing in  from  the  sea.  A  ruby  light  hung  at  the  prow.  It 
was  rowed  by  four  men  standing  and  yulohing,  two  in 
the  stern  and  two  at  the  bow.  They  were  intoning  a 
rhythmic  chant  to  which  their  bodies  moved.  The  boat 
was  slim  and  pointed ;  and  the  rowers  looked  like  Vikings. 

The  shadows  cast  by  the  moonlight  were  inky  black, 
the  shadows  of  the  beaked  ships,  the  shadows  of  the  sav- 
age huts,  of  the  ape-like  men,  of  the  huge  round  fish- 
baskets  like  immense  amphorae. 

Far  out  from  land,  where  the  wide  floating  nets  were 
spread,  lights  were  scattered  like  constellations.  The 
foreland  was  clearly  visible,  with  the  high  woods  which 
clothed  its  summit.  But  the  farther  end  of  the  beach 
faded  into  an  uneven  string  of  lights,  soft  and  spectral 
as  will-o'-the-wisps.  Warmth  rose  from  the  sleeping 
earth;  and  a  breeze  blew  in  from  the  sea,  making  a 
strange  metallic  rustling,  which  to  Japanese  ears  is  the 
sweetest  natural  music,  in  the  gaunt  sloping  pine-trees, 
whose  height  in  the  semi-darkness  was  exaggerated  to 
monstrous  and  threatening  proportions. 

Geoffrey  felt  a  little  hand  in  his,  warm  and  moist. 

"Shall  we  go  and  see  Dai-Butsu?"  said  Yae. 

Geoffrey  had  no  idea  who  Dai-Butsu  might  be,  but  he 
gladly  agreed.  She  fluttered  on  beside  him  with  her 
long  kimono  sleeves  like  a  big  moth,  Geoffrey's  head 
was  full  of  wine  and  waltz  tunes. 

They  dived  into  a  narrow  street  with  dwellings  on 
each  side.  Some  of  the  houses  were  shuttered  and  silent. 
Others  were  open  to  the  street  with  a  completeness  of 
detail  denied  by  our  stingy  window-casements — women 
sitting  up  late  over  their  needlework,  men  talking  round 
the  firebox,  shopkeepers  adding  up  their  accounts, /fisher- 
men mending  their  tackle. 

The  street  led  inland  towards  abrupt  hills,  which 
looked  like  a  wall  of  darkness.  It  was  lit  by  the  round 


200  KIMONO 

street  lamps,  the  luminous  globules  with  Chinese  letters 
on  them  which  had  pleased  Geoffrey  first  at  Nagasaki. 
The  road  entered  a  gorge  between  two  precipices,  the 
kind  of  cleft  into  which  the  children  of  Hamlin  had  fol- 
lowed the  Pied  Piper. 

"I  would  not  like  to  come  here  alone,"  said  Yae,  cling- 
ing tighter. 

"It  looks  peaceful  enough,"  said  Geoffrey. 

"There  is  a  little  temple  just  to  the  left,  where  a  nun 
was  murdered  by  a  priest  only  last  year.  He  chopped 
her  with  a  kitchen  knife." 

"What  did  he  do  it  for?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

"He  loved  her,  and  she  would  not  listen  to  him ;  so  he 
killed  her.  I  think  I  would  feel  like  that  if  I  were  a 
man." 

They  passed  under  an  enormous  gateway,  like  a  huge 
barn  door  with  no  barn  behind  it.  Two  threatening  gods 
stood  sentinel  on  either  hand.  Under  the  influence  of  the 
moonlight  the  carved  figures  seemed  to  move. 

Yae  led  her  big  companion  along  a  broad-flagged  path 
between  a  pollarded  avenue.  Geoffrey  still  did  not  know 
what  they  had  come  so  far  to  see.  Nor  did  he  care.  Every- 
thing was  so  dreamy  and  so  sweet. 

The  path  turned ;  and  suddenly,  straight  in  front  of 
them,  they  saw  the  God — the  Great  Buddha — the  im- 
mense bronze  statue  which  has  survived  from  the  days 
of  Kamakura's  sovereignty.  The  bowed  head  and  the 
broad  shoulders  were  outlined  against  the  blue  and  starry 
sky;  against  the  shadow  of  the  woods  the  body,  almost 
invisible,  could  be  dimly  divined.  The  moonlight  fell  on 
the  calm  smile  and  on  the  hands  palm  upwards  in  the 
lap,  with  finger-tips  and  thumb-tips  touching  in  the  atti- 
tude of  meditation.  That  ineffably  peaceful,  smiling  face 
seemed  to  look  down  from  the  very  height  of  heaven 
upon  Geoffrey  Barrington  and  Yae  Smith.  The  presence 
of  the  God  rilled  the  valley,  patient  and  powerful,  the 
Creator  of  the  Universe  and  the  Maintainer  of  Life. 

Geoffrey  had  never  seen  anything  so  impressive.  He 
stooped  down  towards  his  little  companion,  listening  for 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  201 

a  response  to  his  own  emotion.  It  came.  Before  he 
could  realize  what  was  happening  he  felt  the  soft  kimono 
sleeves  like  wings  round  his  neck,  and  the  girl's  burning 
mouth  pressing  his  lips. 

"Oh,  Geoffrey,"  she  whispered. 

He  sat  down  on  a  low  table  in  front  of  a  shuttered  re- 
freshment bar  with  Yae  on  his  knee,  his  strong  arm 
round  her,  even  as  she  had  dreamed.  The  Buddha  of 
Infinite  Understanding  smiled  down  upon  them. 

Geoffrey  was  too  little  of  a  prig  to  scold  the  girl,  and 
too  much  of  a  man  not  to  be  touched  and  flattered  by 
the  sincerity  of  her  embrace.  He  was  too  much  of  an 
Englishman  to  ascribe  it  to  its  real  passionate  motive, 
and  to  profit  by  the  opportunity. 

Instead,  he  told  himself  that  she  was  only  a  child  ex- 
cited by  the  beauty  and  the  romance  of  the  night  even  as 
he  was.  He  did  not  begin  to  realize  that  he  or  she  were 
making  love.  So  he  took  her  on  his  knee  and  stroked 
her  hand. 

"Isn't  he  fine?"  he  said,  looking  up  at  the  God. 

She  started  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  put  her  arms 
round  his  neck  again. 

"Oh,  Geoffrey,"  she  murmured,  "how  strong  you  are !" 

He  stood  up  laughing,  with  the  girl  in  his  arms. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  your  big  obi"  he  said,  "you -would 
weigh  nothing  at  all.  Now  hold  tight ;  for  I  am  going 
to  carry  you  home." 

He  started  down  the  avenue  with  a  swinging  stride. 
Yae  could  watch  almost  within  range  of  her  lips  the 
powerful  profile  of  his  big  face,  a  soldier's  face  trained  to 
command  strong  men  and  to  be  gentle  to  women  and 
children.  There  was  a  delicious  fragrance  about  him,  the 
dry  heathery  smell  of  clean  men.  He  did  not  look  down 
at  her.  He  was  staring  into  the  black  shadows  ahead, 
his  mind  still  full  of  that  sudden  vision  of  Buddha  Ami- 
tabha.  He  was  scarcely  thinking  of  the  half-caste  girl 
who  clung  tightly  to  his  neck. 

Yae  had  no  interest  in  the  Dai-Butsu  except  as  a  grand 
background  for  love-making,  a  good  excuse  for  hand 


202 

squeezings  and  ecstatic  movements.  She  had  tried  it  once 
before  with  her  school-master  lover.  It  never  occurred 
to  her  that  Geoffrey  was  in  any  way  different  from  her 
other  admirers.  She  thought  that  she  herself  was  the 
sole  cause  of  his  emotion  and  that  his  fixed  expression 
as  he  strode  in  the  darkness  was  an  indication  of  his 
passion  and  a  compliment  to  her  charms.  She  was  too 
tactful  to  say  anything,  or  to  try  to  force  the  situation ; 
but  she  felt  disappointed  when  at  the  approach  of  lighted 
houses  he  put  her  down  without  further  caresses.  In 
silence  they  returned  to  the  hotel,  where  a  few  tired 
couples  were  still  revolving  to  a  spasmodic  music. 

Geoffrey  was  weary  now ;  and  the  enchantment  of  the 
wine  had  passed  away. 

"Good-night,  Yae,"  he  said. 

She  was  holding  the  lapels  of  his  coat,  and  she  would 
have  dearly  loved  to  kiss  him  again.  But  he  stood  like 
a  tower  without  any  sign  of  bending  down  to  her ;  and 
she  would  have  had  to  jump  for  the  forbidden  fruit. 

"Good-night,  Geoffrey,"  she  purred,  "I  will  never  forget 
to-night." 

"It  was  lovely,"  said  the  Englishman,  thinking  of  the 
Great  Buddha. 


Geoffrey  retired  to  his  room,  where  Asako  was  sleeping 
peacefully.  He  was  very  English.  Only  the  first  surprise 
of  the  girl's  kiss  had  startled  his  loyalty.  With  the 
ostrich-like  obtuseness,  which  our  continental  neighbours 
call  our  hypocrisy,  he  buried  his  head  in  his  principles. 
As  Asako's  husband,  he  could  not  flirt  with  another 
woman.  As  Reggie's  friend,  he  would  not  flirt  with 
Reggie's  sweetheart.  As  an  honourable  man,  he  would 
not  trifle  with  the  affections  of  a  girl  who  meant  nothing 
whatever  to  him.  Therefore  the  incident  of  the  Great 
Buddha  had  no  significance.  Therefore  he  could  lie  down 
and  sleep  with  a  light  heart. 

Geoffrey  had  been  sleeping  for  half  an  hour  or  so  when 
he  was  awakened  by  a  sudden  jolt,  as  though  the  whole 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  203 

building  had  met  with  a  violent  collision,  or  as  though  a 
gigantic  fist  had  struck  it.  Everything  in  the  room  was 
in  vibration.  The  hanging  lamp  was  swinging  like  a 
pendulum.  The  pictures  were  shaking  on  the  walls.  A 
china  ornament  on  the  mantelpiece  reeled,  and  fell  with 
a  crash. 

Geoffrey  leapt  out  of  bed  to  cross  to  where  his  wife 
was  sleeping.  Even  the  floor  was  unsteady  like  a  ship's 
deck. 

"Geoffrey !    Geoffrey !"  Asako  called  out. 

"It  must  be  an  earthquake,"  her  husband  gasped, 
"Reggie  told  me  to  expect  one." 

"It  has  made  me  feel  so  sick,"  said  Asako. 

The  disturbance  was  subsiding.  Only  the  lamp  was 
still  oscillating  slightly  to  prove  that  the  earthquake 
was  not  merely  a  nightmare. 

"Is  any  one  about?"  asked  Asako. 

Geoffrey  went  out  on  to  the  veranda.  The  hotel  having 
survived  many  hundreds  of  earthquake  shocks,  seemed 
unaware  of  what  had  happened.  Far  out  to  sea  puffs  of 
fire  were  dimly  seen  like  the  flashes  of  a  battleship  in 
action,  where  the  island  volcano  of  Oshima  was  empty- 
ing its  wrath  against  the  sky. 

There  were  hidden  and  unfamiliar  powers  in  this 
strange  country,  of  which  Geoffrey  and  Asako  had  not 
yet  taken  account. 

Beneath  a  tall  lamp-post  on  the  lawn,  round  whose 
smooth  waxy  light  scores  of  moths  were  flitting,  stood 
the  short  stout  figure  of  a  Japanese,  staring  up  at  the 
hotel. 

"It  looks  like  Tanaka,"  thought  Geoffrey,  "by  Jove, 
it  is  Tanaka !" 

They  had  definitely  left  their  guide  behind  in  Tokyo. 
Had  Asako  yielded  at  the  last  moment  unable  to  dispense 
with  her  faithful  squire?  Or  had  he  come  of  his  own 
accord?  and  if  so,  why?  These  Japs  were  an  unfathom- 
able and  exasperating  people. 

Sure  enough  next  morning  it  was  Tanaka  who  brought 
the  early  tea. 


204  KIMONO 

"Hello,"  said  Geoffrey,  "I  thought  you  were  in  Tokyo." 

"Indeed,"  grinned  the  guide,  "I  am  sorry  for  you. 
Perhaps  I  have  commit  great  crime  so  to  come.  But  I 
think  and  I  think  Ladyship  not  so  well.  Heart  very 
anxious.  Go  to  theatre,  wish  to  make  merry,  but  all 
the  time  heart  very  sad.  I  think  I  will  take  last  train. 
I  will  turn  like  bad  penny.  Perhaps  Lordship  is  angry." 

"No,  not  angry,  Tanaka,  just  helpless.  There  was  an 
earthquake  last  night?" 

"Not  so  bad  jishin  (earth-shaking).  Every  twenty, 
thirty  years  one  very  big  jishin  come.  Last  big  jishin 
Gifu  jishin  twenty  years  before.  Many  thousand  people 
killed.  Japanese  people  say  that  beneath  the  earth  is 
one  big  fish.  When  the  fish  move,  the  earth  shake.  Silly 
fabulous  myth !  Tanaka  say,  'It  is  the  will  of  God !'  " 

The  little  man  crossed  himself  devoutly. 


A  few  minutes  later  there  was  a  loud  banging  at  the 
door,  followed  by  Reggie's  voice,  shouting, — 

"Are  you  coming  down  for  a  bath?" 

"Earthquakes  are  horrible  things,"  commented  Reggie, 
on  their  way  to  the  sea.  "Foreigners  are  supposed  always 
to  sleep  through  their  first  one.  Their  second  they  find 
an  interesting  experience ;  but  the  third  and  the  fourth 
and  the  rest  are  a  series  of  nervous  shocks  in  increasing 
progression.  It  is  like  feeling  God — but  a  wicked,  cruel 
God!  No  wonder  the  Japanese  are  so  fatalistic  and  so 
desperate.  It  is  a  case  of  'Eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
ye  die.'  " 

The  morning  sea  was  cold  and  bracing.  The  two 
friends  did  not  remain  in  for  long.  When  they  were 
dried  and  dressed  again,  and  when  Geoffrey  was  for 
returning  to  breakfast,  Reggie  held  him  back. 

"Come  and  walk  by  the  sea,"  he  said,  "I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you." 

They  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  fishing  village, 
where  Geoffrey  and  Yae  had  walked  together  only  a  few 
hours  ago.  But  the  fires  were  quenched.  Black  circles 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  205 

of  charred  ashes  remained;  and  the  magic  world  of  the 
moonlight  had  become  a  cluster  of  sordid  hovels,  where 
dirty  women  were  sweeping  their  frowsty  floors,  and 
scrofulous  children  were  playing  among  stale  bedding. 

"Did  you  notice  anything  unusual  in  my  manner  last 
night?"  Reggie  began  very  seriously. 

"No,"  laughed  Geoffrey,  "you  seemed  rather  excited. 
But  why  did  you  leave  so  early?" 

"For  various  reasons,"  said  his  friend.  "First,  I  hate 
dancing,  but  I  feel  rather  envious  of  people  who  like  it. 
Secondly,  I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  my  own  sensations. 
Thirdly,  I  wanted  you,  my  best  friend,  to  have  every 
opportunity  of  observing  Yae  and  forming  an  opinion 
about  her." 

"But  why?"  Geoffrey  began. 

"Because  it  would  now  be  too  late  for  me  to  take 
your  advice,"  said  Reggie  mysteriously. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Barrington  asked. 

"Last  night  I  asked  Yae  to  marry  me ;  and  I  understand 
that  she  accepted." 

Geoffrey  sat  in  the  sunlight  on  the  gunwale  of  a  fish- 
ingboat. 

"You  can't  do  that,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  Geoffrey,  I  was  afraid  you'd  say  it,  and  you  have," 
said  his  friend,  half  laughing.  "Why  not?" 

"Your  career,  old  chap." 

"My  career,"  snorted  Reggie,  "protocol,  protocol  and 
protocol.  I  am  fed  up  with  that,  anyway.  Can  you 
imagine  me  a  be-ribboned  Excellency,  worked  by  wires 
from  London,  babbling  platitudes  over  teacups  to  other 
old  Excellencies,  and  giving  out  a  lot  of  gas  for  the  F.  O. 
every  morning.  No,  in  the  old  days  there  was  charm  and 
power  and  splendour,  when  an  Ambassador  was  really 
plenipotentiary,  and  peace  and  war  turned  upon  a  court 
intrigue.  All  that  is  as  dead  as  Louis  Quatorze.  Person- 
ality has  faded  out  of  politics.  Everything  is  business, 
now,  concessions,  vested  interests,  dividends  and  bond- 
holders. These  diplomats  are  not  real  people  at  all. 
They  are  shadowy  survivals  of  the  grand  siecle,  wraiths 


206  KIMONO 

of  Talleyrand;  or  else  just  restless  bagmen.  I  don't  call 
that  a  career." 

Geoffrey  had  listened  to  these  tirades  before.  It  was 
Reggie's  froth. 

"But  what  do  you  propose  doing?"  he  asked. 

"Doing?  Why,  my  music  of  course.  Before  I  left 
England  some  music-hall  people  offered  me  seventy 
pounds  a  week  to  do  stunts  for  them.  Their  first  offer 
was  two  hundred  and  fifty,  because  they  were  under  the 
illusion  that  I  had  a  title.  My  official  salary  at  this 
moment  is  two  hundred  per  annum.  So  you  see  there 
would  be  no  financial  loss." 

"Then  are  you  giving  up  diplomacy  because  you  are 
fed  up  with  it?  or  for  Yae  Smith's  sake?  I  don't  quite 
understand,"  said  Geoffrey. 

He  was  still  pondering  over  the  scene  of  last  evening, 
and  he  found  considerable  comfort  in  ascribing  Yae's 
behaviour  to  excitement  caused  by  her  engagement. 

"Yae  is  the  immediate  reason:  utter  fed-upness  is  the 
original  cause,"  replied  Reggie. 

"Do  you  feel  that  you  are  very  much  in  love  with  her?" 
asked  his  friend. 

The  young  man  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered, — 

"No,  not  in  love  exactly.  But  she  represents  what  I 
have  come  to  desire.  I  get  so  terribly  lonely,  Geoffrey, 
and  I  must  have  some  one,  some  woman,  of  course ;  and 
I  hate  intrigue  and  adultery.  Yae  never  grates  upon  me. 
I  hate  the  twaddling  activities  of  our  modern  women, 
their  little  sports,  their  little  sciences,  their  little  earnest- 
nesses, their  little  philanthropies,  their  little  imitations 
of  men's  ways.  I  like  the  seraglio  type  of  woman,  lazy 
and  vain,  a  little  more  than  a  lovely  animal.  I  can  play 
with  her,  and  hear  her  purring.  She  must  have  no 
father  or  mother  or  brothers  or  sisters  or  any  social 
scheme  to  entangle  me  in.  She  must  have  no  claim  on 
my  secret  mind,  she  must  not  be  jealous  of  my  music, 
or  expect  explanations.  Still  less  explain  me  to  others, — 


THE  GREAT  BUDDHA  207 

a  wife  who  shows  one  round  like  a  monkey,  what 
horror!" 

"But  Reggie!  old  chap,  does  she  love  you?" 

Geoffrey's  ideas  were  stereotyped.  To  his  mind,  only 
great  love  on  both  sides  could  excuse  so  bizarre  a 
marriage. 

"Love !"  cried  Reggie.  "What  is  Love  ?  I  can  feel 
Love  in  music.  I  can  feel  it  in  poetry.  I  can  see  it  in 
sunshine,  in  the  wet  woods,  and  in  the  phosphorescent 
sea.  But  in  actual  life !  I  think  of  things  in  too  abstract 
a  way  ever  to  feel  in  love  with  anybody.  So  I  don't 
think  anybody  could  really  fall  in  love  with  me.  It  is 
like  religious  faith.  I  have  no  faith,  and  yet  I  believe 
in  faith.  I  have  no  love,  and  yet  I  have  a  great  love 
for  love.  Blessed  are  they  who  have  not  seen,  and  yet 
have  believed!" 

When  Reggie  was  in  this  mood  Geoffrey  despaired  of 
getting  any  sense  out  of  him,  and  he  felt  that  the  occa- 
sion was  too  serious  for  smiles. 

They  were  walking  back  to  the  hotel  in  the  direction 
of  breakfast. 

"Reggie,  are  you  quite  sure?"  said  his  friend,  solemnly. 

"No,  of  course  I'm  not.    I  never  could  be." 

"And  are  you  intending  to  get  married  soon?" 

"Not  immediately,  no:  and  all  this  is  quite  in  con- 
fidence, please." 

"I'm  glad  there's  no  hurry,"  grunted  Geoffrey.  He 
knew  that  the  girl  was  light  and  worthless ;  but  to  have 
shown  Reggie  his  proofs  would  have  been  to  admit  his 
own  complicity;  and  to  give  a  woman  away  so  callously 
would  be  a  greater  offence  against  Good  Form  than  his 
momentary  and  meaningless  trespass. 

"But  there  is  one  thing  you  have  forgotten,"  said 
Reggie,  rather  bitterly. 

"What's  that,  old  chap?" 

"When  a  fellow  announces  his  engagement  to  the 
dearest  little  girl  in  all  the  world,  his  friends  offer  their 
congratulations.  It's  Good  Form,"  he  added  maliciously. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    RAINY    SEASON 

Fugu-jiru  no  Poisonous  delicacies    (last 

Ware  ikite  ir  \  night)  ! 

Ne-satne  kana!  I  awake 

And  I  am  still  alive. 

GEOFFREY  HARRINGTON  tried  not  to  worry  about  Yae 
Smith ;  and,  of  course,  he  did  not  mention  the  episode  of 
the  Great  Buddha  either  to  his  wife  or  to  Reggie  Forsyth. 
He  did  not  exactly  feel  ashamed  of  the  incident ;  but  he 
realised  that  it  was  open  to  misinterpretation.  He 
certainly  had  no  love  for  Yae;  and  she,  since  she  was 
engaged  to  his  friend,  presumably  had  no  love  for  him. 
There  are  certain  unnatural  states  of  mind  in  which  we 
are  not  altogether  morally  responsible  beings.  Among 
these  may  be  numbered  the  ball-room  mood,  which 
drives  quite  sane  people  to  act  madly.  The  music,  the 
wine,  the  giddy  turning,  the  display  of  women's  charms 
and  the  confusing  proximity  of  them  produce  an  un- 
wonted atmosphere,  of  which  we  have  most  of  us  been 
aware,  so  bewildering  that  admiration  of  one  woman 
will  drive  sane  men  to  kiss  another.  Explanation  is  of 
course  impossible ;  and  circumstances  must  have  their 
way.  Scheming  people,  mothers  with  daughters  to 
marry,  study  the  effects  of  this  psychical  chemistry  and 
profit  by  their  knowledge.  Under  similar  influences 
Geoffrey  himself  had  been  guilty  of  wilder  indiscretions 
than  the  kissing  of  a  half-caste  girl. 

But  when  he  thought  the  matter  over,  he  was  sorry 
that  it  had  occurred;  and  he  was  profoundly  thankful 
that  nobody  had  seen  him. 

Somebody  had  seen  him,  however. 

The  faithful  Tanaka,  who  had  been  charged  by  Mr.  Ito, 
the  Fujinami  lawyer,  not  to  let  his  master  out  of  his 

208 


THE  RAINY  SEASON  209 

sight,  had  followed  him  at  a  discreet  distance  during  the 
whole  of  that  midnight  stroll.  He  had  observed  the 
talk  and  the  attitudes,  the  silences  and  the  holding  of 
hands,  the  glad  exchange  of  kisses,  the  sitting  of  Yae  on 
Geoffrey's  knees,  and  her  triumphant  return,  carried  in 
his  arms. 

To  the  Japanese  mind  such  conduct  could  only  mean 
one  thing.  The  Japanese  male  is  frankly  animal  where 
women  are  concerned.  He  does  not  understand  our  fine 
shades  of  self-deception,  which  give  to  our  love-making 
the  thrill  of  surprise  and  the  palliation  of  romance. 
Tanaka  concluded  that  there  could  be  only  one  termin- 
ation to  the  scene  which  he  had  witnessed. 

He  also  learned  that  Yae  Smith  was  Reggie  Forsyth's 
mistress,  that  he  visited  her  room  at  night,  that  she  was 
a  girl  of  no  character  at  all,  that  she  had  frequently 
stopped  at  the  Kamakura  hotel  with  other  men,  all  of 
them  her  lovers. 

All  this  information  Tanaka  collected  with  a  wealth 
and  precision  of  detail  which  is  only  possible  in  Japan, 
where  the  espionage  habit  is  so  deeply  implanted  in  the 
every-day  life  of  the  people. 


Mr.  Ito  could  scarcely  believe  such  welcome  tidings. 
The  Barrington  menage  had  seemed  to  him  so  devoted 
that  he  had  often  despaired  of  his  boast  to  his  patron 
that  he  would  divide  the  wife  from  her  husband,  and 
restore  her  to  her  family.  Now,  if  Tanaka's  story  were 
true,  his  task  would  be  child's  play.  A  woman  charged 
with  jealousy  becomes  like  a  weapon  primed  and  cocked. 
If  Ito  could  succeed  in  making  Asako  jealous,  then  he 
knew  that  any  stray  spark  of  misunderstanding  would 
blast  a  black  gulf  between  husband  and  wife,  and  might 
even  blow  the  importunate  Englishman  back  to  his  own 
country — alone. 

The  lawyer  explained  his  plan  to  the  head  of  the  family, 
who  appreciated  its  classic  simplicity.  Sadako  was  given 
to  understand  the  part  which  she  was  to  play  in  alienat- 


210  KIMONO 

ing  her  cousin's  affections  from  the  foreigner.  She  was 
to  harp  on  the  faithlessness  of  men  in  general,  and  of 
husbands  in  particular,  and  on  the  importance  of  money 
values  in  matrimonial  considerations. 

She  was  to  suggest  that  a  foreign  man  would  never 
choose  a  Japanese  bride  merely  for  love  of  her.  Then, 
when  the  psychological  moment  had  struck,  the  name 
of  Yae  Smith  was  to  be  flashed  into  Asako's  mind  with 
a  blinding  glare. 

Asako  had  been  visiting  her  Japanese  cousins  almost 
every  day.  Her  conversation  lessons  were  progressing 
rapidly ;  for  the  first  stages  of  the  language  are  easy. 
The  new  life  appealed  to  Asako's  love  of  novelty,  and 
the  strangeness  of  it  to  her  child's  love  of  make-believe. 
The  summoning  of  her  parents'  spirits  awakened  in  her 
the  desire  for  a  home,  which  lurks  in  every  one  of  us, 
the  love  of  old  family  things  around  us,  the  sense  of 
an  inheritance  and  a  tradition.  She  was  tired  of  hotel 
life;  and  she  turned  for  relaxation  to  playing  at  Ja- 
pan with  cousin  Sadako,  just  as  her  husband  turned  to 
tennis. 

Her  favourite  haunt  was  the  little  tea-house  among 
the  reeds  at  the  edge  of  the  lake,  which  seemed  so  hidden 
from  everywhere.  Here  the  two  girls  practised  their 
languages.  Here  they  tried  on  each  other's  clothes, 
and  talked  about  their  lives  and  purposes.  Sadako 
was  intellectually  the  cleverer  of  the  two,  but  Asako 
had  seen  and  heard  more;  so  they  were  fairly  equally 
matched. 

Often  the  cousins  shocked  each  other's  sense  of  pro- 
priety. Asako  had  already  observed  that  to  the  Japanese 
mind,  the  immediate  corollary  to  being  married  is  to 
produce  children  as  promptly  and  as  rapidly  as  possible. 
Already  she  had  been  questioned  on  the  subject  by 
Tanaka,  by  boy  sans  and  by  shop-attendants. 

"It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  cousin  Sadako,  "that  you 
have  no  baby.  In  Japan  if  a  wife  have  no  baby,  she 
is  often  divorced.  But  perhaps  it  is  the  fault  of  Mr. 
Barrington?" 


THE  RAINY  SEASON  211 

i 

Asako  had  vaguely  hoped  for  children  in  the  future; 
but  on  the  whole  she  was  glad  that  their  coming  had 
been  delayed.  There  was  so  much  to  do  and  to  see  first 
of  all.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  her  childlessness 
might  be  the  fault  of  either  herself  or  her  husband.  But 
her  cousin  went  on  ruthlessly,  — 

"Many  men  are  like  that.  Because  of  their  sickness 
their  wives  cannot  have  babies." 

Asako  shivered.  This  beautiful  country  of  hers  seemed 
to  be  full  of  bogeys  like  a  child's  dream. 

Another  time  Sadako  asked  her  with  much  diffidence 
and  slanting  of  the  eyes,  — 

"I  wish  to  learn  about  —  kissing." 

"What  is  the  Japanese  for  'kiss'?"    laughed  Asako. 

"Oh!  There  is  no  such  word,"  expostulated  Sadako, 
shocked  at  her  cousin's  levity,  "we  Japanese  do  not 
speak  of  such  things." 

'Then  Japanese  people  don't  kiss?" 

'Oh,  no,"  said  the  girl. 

'Not  ever?"  asked  Asako,  incredulous. 

'Only  when  they  are  —  quite  alone." 

'Then  when  you  see  foreign  people  kissing  in  public, 
you  think  it  is  very  funny?" 

"We  think  it  is  disgusting,"  answered  her  cousin. 

It  is  quite  true.  Foreigners  kiss  so  recklessly.  They 
kiss  on  meeting:  they  kiss  on  parting.  They  kiss  in 
London:  they  kiss  in  Tokyo.  They  kiss  indiscriminately 
their  fathers,  mothers,  wives,  mistresses,  cousins  and 
aunts.  Every  kiss  sends  a  shiver  down  the  spine  of  a 
Japanese  observer  of  either  sex,  as  we  should  be  shocked 
by  the  crude  exhibition  of  an  obscene  gesture.  For  this 
blossoming  of  our  buds  of  affection  suggests  to  him, 
with  immediate  and  detailed  clearness,  that  other  em- 
brace of  which  in  his  mind  it  is  the  inseparable  con- 
comitant. 

The  Japanese  find  the  excuse  that  foreigners  know 
no  better,  just  as  we  excuse  the  dirty  habits  of  natives. 
But  they  quote  the  kiss  as  an  indisputable  proof  of  the 


212  KIMONO 

lowness  of  our  moral  standard,  and  as  a  sign  of  the 
guilt,  not  of  individuals  so  much  as  of  our  whole  civil- 
isation. 

"Foreign  people  kiss  too  much,"  said  cousin  Sadako, 
"it  is  a  bad  thing.  If  I  had  a  husband,  I  would  always 
fear  he  kiss  somebody  else." 

"That  is  why  I  am  so  happy  with  Geoffrey,"  said 
Asako,  "I  know  he  would  never  love  any  one  but 
me." 

"It  is  not  safe  to  be  so  sure,"  said  her  cousin  darkly, 
"a  woman  is  made  for  one  man,  but  a  man  is  made  for 
many  women." 

Asako,  arrayed  in  a  Japanese  kimono,  and  to  all  appear- 
ance as  Japanese  as  her  cousin,  was  sitting  in  the  Fuji- 
nami  tea-parlour.  She  had  not  understood  much  of  the 
lesson  in  tea-ceremony  at  which  she  had  just  assisted. 
But  the  exceeding  propriety  and  dignity  of  the  teacher, 
the  daughter  of  great  people  fallen  upon  evil  days,  had 
impressed  her.  She  longed  to  acquire  that  tranquillity 
of  deportment,  that  slow  graceful  poise  of  hand  and 
arm,  that  low  measured  speech.  When  the  teacher  had 
gone,  she  began  to  mimic  her  gestures  with  all  the 
seriousness  of  appreciative  imitation. 

Sadako  laughed.  She  supposed  that  her  cousin  was 
fooling.  Asako  thought  that  she  was  amused  by  her 
clumsiness. 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  it,"  she  sighed. 

"But  of  course  you  will.  I  laugh  because  you  are  so 
like  Kikuye  San." 

Kikuye  San  was  their  teacher. 

"If  only  I  could  practise  by  myself !"  said  Asako,  "but 
at  the  hotel  it  would  be  impossible." 

Then  they  both  laughed  together  at  the  incongruity 
of  rehearsing  those  dainty  rites  of  old  Japan  in  the  over- 
furnished  sitting-room  at  the  Imperial  Hotel,  with  Geof- 
frey sitting  back  in  his  arm-chair  and  puffing  at  his 
cigar. 

"If  only  I  had  a  little  house  like  this,"  said  Asako. 

"Why  don't  you  hire  one?"  suggested  her  cousin. 


THE  RAINY  SEASON  213 

Why  not?  The  idea  was  an  inspiration.  So  Asako 
thought;  and  she  broached  the  matter  to  Geoffrey  that 
very  evening. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  sweet  to  have  a  ducky  little  Japanese 
house  all  our  very  own?"  she  urged. 

"Oh  yes,"  her  husband  agreed,  wearily,  "that  would 
be  great  sport." 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  was  delighted  at  the  success  of 
his  daughter's  diplomacy.  He  saw  that  this  plan  for 
a  Japanese  house  meant  a  further  separation  of  husband 
and  wife,  a  further  step  towards  recovery  of  his  errant 
child.  For  he  was  beginning  to  regard  Asako  with 
parental  sentiment,  and  to  pity  her  condition  as  the  wife 
of  this  coarse  stranger. 

Miss  Sadako  was  under  no  such  altruistic  delusions. 
She  envied  her  cousin.  She  envied  her  money,  her  free- 
dom, and  her  frank  happiness.  She  had  often  pondered 
about  the  ways  of  Japanese  husbands  and  wives ;  and  the 
more  she  thought  over  the  subject,  the  more  she  envied 
Asako  her  happy  married  life.  She  envied  her  with  a 
woman's  envy,  which  seeks  to  hurt  and  spoil.  She  was 
smarting  from  her  own  disappointment ;  and  by  making 
her  cousin  suffer,  she  thought  that  she  could  assuage 
her  own  grief.  Besides,  the  intrigue  in  itself  interested 
her,  and  provided  employment  for  her  idolent  existence 
and  her  restless  mind.  Of  affection  for  Asako  she  had 
none  at  all,  but  then  she  had  no  affection  for  anybody. 
She  was  typical  of  a  modern  Japanese  womanhood, 
which  is  the  result  of  long  repression,  loveless  marriages 
and  sudden  intellectual  licence. 

Asako  thought  her  charming,  because  she  had  not  yet 
learned  to  discern.  She  confided  to  her  all  her  ideas 
about  the  new  house ;  and  together  the  two  girls  explored 
Tokyo  in  the  motor-car  which  Ito  provided  for  them,  in- 
specting properties. 

Asako  had  already  decided  that  her  home  was  to  be 
on  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  she  could  see  the  boats 
passing,  something  like  the  house  in  which  her  father 
and  mother  had  lived.  The  desired  abode  was  found 


214  KIMONO 

at  last  on  the  river-bank  at  Mukojima  just  on  the  fringe 
of  the  city,  where  the  cherry-trees  are  so  bright  in 
Springtime,  where  she  could  see  the  broad  Sumida  river 
washing  her  garden  steps,  the  fussy  little  river  boats 
puffing  by,  the  portly  junks,  the  crews  of  students  train- 
ing for  their  regattas,  and,  away  on  the  opposite  bank, 
the  trees  of  Asakusa,  the  garish  river  restaurants  so  noisy 
at  nightfall,  the  tall  peaceful  pagoda,  the  grey  roofs  and 
the  red  plinths  of  the  temple  of  the  Goddess  of  Mercy. 

Just  when  the  new  home  was  ready  for  occupation, 
just  when  Asako's  enthusiasm  was  at  its  height  and  the 
purchases  of  silken  bedding  and  dainty  trays  were  almost 
complete,  Geoffrey  suddenly  announced  his  intention  of 
leaving  Japan. 

"I  can't  stick  it  any  longer,"  he  said  fretfully,  "I  don't 
know  what's  coming  over  me." 

"Leave  Japan?"  cried  his  wife,  aghast. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  grunted  her  husband,  "it's  no 
good  stopping  here  and  going  all  to  seed." 

The  rainy  season  was  just  over,  the  hot  season  of 
steaming  rain  which  the  Japanese  call  nyubai.  It  had 
played  havoc  with  Geoffrey's  nerves.  He  had  never 
known  anything  so  unpleasant  as  this  damp,  relaxing 
heat.  It  made  the  walls  of  the  room  sweat.  It  impreg- 
nated paper  and  blotting-paper.  It  rotted  leather ;  and 
spread  mould  on  boots  and  clothes.  It  made  matches 
unstrikeable.  It  drenched  Geoffrey's  bed  with  perspira- 
tion, and  drove  away  sleep.  It  sent  him  out  on  long 
midnight  walks  through  the  silent  city  in  an  atmosphere 
as  stifling  as  that  of  a  green-house.  It  beat  down  upon 
Tokyo  its  fetid  exhalations,  the  smell  of  cooking,  of 
sewage  and  of  humanity,  and  the  queer  sickly  scent  of  a 
powerful  evergreen  tree  aflower  throughout  the  city, 
which  resembled  the  reek  of  that  Nagasaki  brothel, 
and  recalled  the  dancing  of  the  Chonkina. 

It  bred  swarms  of  bloodthirsty  mosquitoes  from  every 
drop  of  stagnant  water.  They  found  their  way  through 
the  musty  mosquito-net  which  separated  his  bed  from 
Asako's.  They  eluded  his  blow  in  the  evening  light ; 


THE  RAINY  SEASON  215 

and  he  could  only  wreak  his  vengeance  in  the  morning, 
when  they  were  heavy  with  his  gore. 

The  colour  faded  from  the  Englishman's  cheeks.  His 
appetite  failed.  He  was  becoming,  what  he  had  never 
been  before,  cross  and  irritable.  Reggie  Forsyth  wrote 
to  him  from  Chuzenji, — 

"Yae  is  here,  and  we  go  in  for  yachting  in  a  kind  of 
winged  punt,  called  a  'lark.'  For  five  pounds  you  can 
become  a  ship-owner.  I  fancy  myself  as  a  skipper,  and 
I  have  already  won  two  races.  But  more  often  we  escape 
from  the  burble  of  the  diplomats,  and  take  our  sand- 
wiches and  thermata — or  is  thermal  the  plural? — to  the 
untenanted  shores  of  the  lake,  and  picnic  a  deux.  Then, 
if  the  wind  does  not  fall  we  are  lucky;  but  if  it  does, 
I  have  to  row  home.  Yae  laughs  at  my  oarsmanship; 
and  says  that,  if  you  were  here,  you  would  do  it  so  much 
better.  You  are  a  dangerous  rival,  but  for  this  once  I 
challenge  you.  I  have  a  spare  pen  in  my  rabbit-hutch. 
There  is  just  room  for  you  and  Mrs.  Barrington.  You 
must  be  quite  melted  by  now. 

But  Asako  did  not  want  to  go  to  Chuzenji.  All  her 
thoughts  were  centred  on  the  little  house  by  the  river. 

"Geoffrey  darling,"  she  said,  stroking  his  hair  with  her 
tiny  waxen  fingers,  "it  is  the  hot  weather  which  is  mak- 
ing you  feel  cross.  Why  don't  you  go  up  to  the  moun- 
tains for  a  week  or  so,  and  stop  with  Reggie  ?" 

"Will  you  come?"  asked  her  husband,  brightening. 

"I  can't  very  well.  You  see  they  are  just  laying  down 
the  tatami:  and  when  that  is  done  the  house  will  be  ready. 
Besides,  I  feel  so  well  here.  I  like  the  heat." 

"But  I've  never  been  away  without  you!"  objected 
Geoffrey,  "I  think  it  would  be  beastly." 

This  side  of  the  question  had  not  struck  Asako.  She 
was  so  taken  up  with  her  project.  Now,  however,  she 
felt  a  momentary  thrill  of  relief.  She  would  be  able  to 
give  all  her  time  to  her  beloved  Japanese  home.  Geoffrey 
was  a  darling,  but  he  was  so  uninterested  in  everything. 

"It  will  only  be  for  a  few  days,"  she  said,  "you  want 
the  change  ;  and  when  you  come  back  it  will  be  like  being 
married  again." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AMONG    THE    NIKKO    MOUNTAINS 

lo  chikaki  Dusk,  it  seems,  has  come 

Tsumagi  no  michi  ya  To  the  wood-cutter's  track 

Kure-nuramu;  That  is  near  my  hut ; 

Nokiba  ni  kudaru  The  voices  of  the  mountainmen 

Yama-bito  no  koye!  Going  down  to  the  shed ! 

GEOFFREY  left  early  one  morning  in  a  very  doubtful 
frame  of  mind,  after  having  charged  Tanaka  to  take  the 
greatest  care  of  his  lady,  and  to  do  exactly  what  she  told 
him. 

^.It  was  not  until  half-way  up  the  steep  climb  between 
Nikko  and  Chuzenji  that  his  lungs  suddenly  seemed  to 
break  through  a  thick  film,  and  he  breathed  fresh  air 
again.  Then  he  was  glad  that  he  had  come. 

He  was  afoot.  A  coolie  strode  on  before  him  with  his 
suit-case  strapped  on  his  back.  They  had  started  in 
pouring  rain,  a  long  tramp  through  narrow  gorges. 
Geoffrey  could  feel  the  mountains  around  him ;  but  their 
forms  were  wrapped  in  cloud.  Now  the  mist  was  lift- 
ing; and  although  in  places  it  still  clung  to  the  branches 
like  wisps  of  cotton-wool,  the  precipitous  slopes  became 
visible ;  and  overhead,  peeping  through  the  clouds  at  im- 
possible elevations,  pieces  of  the  mountain  seemed  to  be 
falling  from  the  grey  sky.  Everything  was  bathed  in 
rain.  The  sandstone  cliffs  gleamed  like  marble,  the  lux- 
uriant foliage  like  polished  leather.  The  torrent  foamed 
over  its  wilderness  of  grey  boulders  with  a  splendid  rush 
of  liberty. 

Country  people  passed  by,  dressed  in  straw  overcoats 
which  looked  like  bee-hives,  or  with  thin  capes  of  oiled 
paper,  saffron  or  salmon-coloured.  The  kimono  shirts 
were  girt  up  like  fishers — both  men  and  women — show- 
ing gnarled  and  muscular  limbs.  The  complexions  of 

216 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS          217 

these  mountain  folk  were  red  like  fruit;  the  Mongolian 
yellow  was  hardly  visible. 

Some  were  leading  long  files  of  lean-shanked  horses, 
with  bells  to  their  bridles  and  high  pack-saddles  like 
cradles,  painted  red.  Rough  girls  rode  astride  in  tight 
blue  trunk-hose.  It  was  with  a  start  that  Geoffrey 
recognised  their  sex;  and  he  wondered  vaguely  whether 
men  could  fall  in  love  with  them,  and  fondle  them.  They 
were  on  their  way  to  fetch  provision  for  the  lake  settle- 
ments, or  for  remote  mining-camps  way  beyond  the 
mountains. 

The  air  was  full  of  the  clamour  of  the  torrent,  the 
heavy  splashing  of  raindrops  delayed  among  the  leaves, 
and  the  distant  thunder  of  waterfalls. 

What  a  relief  to  breath  again,  and  what  a  pleasure  to 
escape  from  the  tortuous  streets  and  the  toy  houses, 
from  the  twisted  prettiness  of  the  Tokyo  gardens  and 
the  tiresome  delicacy  of  the  rice-field  mosaic,  into  a  wild 
and  rugged  nature,  a  land  of  forests  and  mountains 
reminiscent  of  Switzerland  and  Scotland,  where  the  occa- 
sional croak  of  a  pheasant  fell  like  music  upon  Geoffrey's 
ear! 

The  two  hours'  climb  ended  abruptly  in  a  level  sandy 
road  running  among  birch  trees.  At  a  wayside  tea-house 
a  man  was  sitting  on  a  low  table.  He  wore  white  trous- 
ers, a  coat  of  cornflower  shade  and  a  Panama  hat — all 
very  spick  and  span.  It  was  Reggie  Forsyth. 

"Hello,"  he  cried,  "my  dear  old  Geoffrey !  I'm  awfully 
glad  you've  come.  But  you  ought  to  have  brought  Mrs. 
Barrington  too.  You  seem  quite  incomplete  without 
her." 

"Yes,  it's  a  peculiar  sensation,  and  I  don't  like  it.  But 
the  heat,  you  know,  at  Tokyo,  it  made  me  feel  rotten. 
I  simply  had  to  come  away.  And  Asako  is  so  busy  now 
with  her  new  cousins  and  her  Japanese  house  and  all  the 
rest  of  it." 

For  the  first  time  Reggie  thought  that  he  detected  a 
tone  in  his  friend's  voice  which  he  had  been  expecting 
to  hear  sooner  or  later,  a  kind  of  "flagging"  tone — he 


218  KIMONO 

found  the  word  afterwards  in  working  out  a  musical 
sketch  called  Love's  Disharmony.  Geoffrey  looked  white 
and  tired,  he  thought.  It  was  indeed  high  time  that  he 
came  up  to  the  mountains. 

They  were  approaching  the  lake,  which  already  showed 
through  the  tree-trunks.  A  path  led  away  to  the  left 
across  a  rustic  bridge. 

"That's  the  way  to  the  hotel.  Yae  is  there.  Farther 
along  are  the  Russian,  French  and  British  Embassies. 
That's  about  half  an  hour  from  here." 

Reggie's  little  villa  stood  at  a  few  minutes'  distance 
in  the  opposite  direction,  past  two  high  Japanese  hotels 
which  looked  like  skeleton  houses  with  the  walls  taken 
out  of  them,  past  sheds  where  furs  were  on  sale,  and 
picture  post-cards,  and  dry  biscuits. 

The  garden  of  the  villa  jutted  out  over  the  lake  on  an 
embankment  of  stones.  The  house  was  discreetly  hidden 
by  a  high  hedge  of  evergreens. 

"William  Tell's  chapel,"  explained  Reggie,  "a  week  in 
lovely  Lucerne !" 

It  was  a  Japanese  house,  another  skeleton.  From 
the  wicket  gate,  Geoffrey  could  see  its  simple  scheme 
open  to  the  four  winds,  its  scanty  furniture  unblushingly 
displayed;  downstairs,  a  table,  a  sofa,  some  bamboo 
chairs  and  a  piano — upstairs,  two  beds,  two  washstands, 
and  the  rest.  The  garden  consisted  of  two  strips  of  wiry 
grass  on  each  side  of  the  house ;  and  a  flight  of  steps  ran 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  where  a  small  sailing-boat  was 
moored. 

The  landscape  of  high  wooded  hills  was  fading  into 
evening  across  the  leaden  ripples  of  the  lake. 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  highland  home?"  asked 
Reggie. 

There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  over  the  heavy  waters,  not 
a  boat,  not  a  bird,  not  an  island  even. 

"Not  much  doing,"  commented  Geoffrey,  "but  the  air's 
good." 

"Not  quite  like  a  lake,  it  is?"  his  host  reflected. 

That  was  true.    A  lake  had  always  appealed  to  Geof- 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS         219 

frey,  both  to  his  sense  of  natural  beauty  and  to  his  in- 
stinct for  sport.  There  is  a  soothing  influence  in  the  im- 
prisoned waters,  the  romance  of  the  sea  without  its 
restlessness  and  fury.  The  freshness  of  untrodden 
islands,  the  possibilities  of  a  world  beneath  the  waters, 
of  half-perceived  Venetas,  the  adventure  of  entrusting 
oneself  and  one's  fortunes  to  a  few  planks  of  wood,  are 
delights  which  the  lake-lover  knows  well.  He  knows 
too,  the  delicious  sense  of  detachment  from  the  shore — 
the  shore  of  ordinary  affairs  and  monotonous  people — 
and  the  charm  of  unfamiliar  lights  and  colours  and  reflec- 
tions. Even  on  the  Serpentine  he  can  find  this  glamour, 
when  the  birds  are  flocking  to  roost  in  the  trees  of  Peter 
Pan's  island. 

But  on  this  lake  of  Chuzenji  there  was  a  sullen  brood- 
ing, an  absence  of  life,  a  suggestion  of  tragedy. 

"It  isn't  a  lake,"  explained  Reggie ;  "it's  the  crater  of 
an  old  volcano  which  has  filled  up  with  water.  It  is  one 
of  the  earth's  pockmarks  healed  over  and  forgotten.  But 
there  is  something  lunar  about  it  still,  some  memory  of 
burned  out  passions,  something  creepy  in  spite  of  the 
beauty  of  the  place.  It  is  too  dark  this  evening  to  see 
how  beautiful  it  is.  In  places  the  lake  is  unfathomably 
deep,  and  people  have  fallen  into  the  water  and  have 
never  been  seen  again." 

The  waters  were  almost  blue  now,  a  deep  dull  greyish 
blue. 

Suddenly,  away  to  the  left,  lines  of  silver  streaked  the 
surface ;  and,  with  a  clapping  and  dripping  commotion,  a 
flight  of  white  geese  rose.  They  had  been  dozing  under 
the  bank,  and  some  one  had  disturbed  them.  A  pale 
figure  like  a  little  flame  was  dimly  discernible. 

"It's  Yae !"  cried  Reggie ;  and  he  made  a  noise  which 
was  supposed  to  be  a  jodel.  The  white  figure  waved  an 
answer. 

Reggie  picked  up  a  megaphone  which  seemed  to  be 
kept  there  for  the  purpose. 

"Good  night,"  he  shouted,  "same  time  to-morrow!" 

The  figure  waved  again  and  disappeared. 


220  KIMONO 

Next  morning  Geoffrey  was  awakened  by  the  boom  of 
a  temple  bell.  He  stepped  out  on  to  his  balcony,  and  saw 
the  lake  and  the  hills  around  clear  and  bright  under  the 
yellow  sunshine.  He  drank  in  the  cool  breath  of  the 
dew.  For  the  first  time  after  many  limp  and  damp 
awakenings  he  felt  the  thrill  of  the  wings  of  the  morning. 
He  thanked  God  he  had  come.  If  only  Asako  were  here ! 
he  thought.  Perhaps  she  was  right  in  getting  a  Japanese 
home  just  for  the  two  of  them.  They  would  be  happier 
there  than  jostled  by  the  promiscuity  of  hotels. 

At  breakfast,  Reggie  had  found  a  note  from  the  Am- 
bassador. 

"Oh,  damn !"  he  cried,  "I  must  go  over  and  beat  a  type- 
writer for  two  or  three  hours.  I  must  therefore  break 
my  tryst.  But  I  expect  you  to  replace  me  like  the  im- 
mortal Cyrano,  who  should  be  the  ideal  of  all  soldiers. 
Will  you  take  Yae  for  an  hour  or  two's  sail?  She  likes 
you  very  much." 

"And  if  I  drown  your  fiancee?  I  don't  know  anything 
about  sailing." 

"I'll  show  you.  It's  very  easy.  Besides,  Yae  really 
knows  more  about  it  than  I  do." 

So  Geoffrey  after  a  short  lesson  in  steering,  tacking, 
and  the  manipulation  of  the  centreboard,  piloted  his  host 
safely  over  to  British  Bay,  the  exclusive  precinct  of  the 
temporary  Embassy  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake. 
He  then  made  his  way  round  French  Cape  past  Russia 
Cove  to  the  wooden  landing-stage  of  the  Lakeside  Hotel. 
There  he  found  Yae,  sitting  on  a  bench  and  throwing 
pebbles  at  the  geese. 

She  wore  the  blue  and  white  cotton  kimono,  which  is 
the  summer  dress  of  Japanese  women.  It  is  a  cheap  gar- 
ment, but  most  effective — so  clean  and  cool  in  the  hot 
weather.  Silk  kimonos  soon  become  stale-looking;  but 
this  cotton  dress  always  seems  to  be  fresh  from  the 
laundry.  A  rope  of  imitation  pearls  was  entwined  in 
her  dark  hair;  and  her  broad  sash  of  deep  blue  was 
secured  in  front  with  an  old  Chinese  ornament  of  jade. 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS         221 

"Oh,  big  captain,"  she  cried,  "I  am  so  glad  it  is  you. 
I  heard  you  were  coming." 

She  stepped  into  the  boat,  and  took  over  the  tiller  and 
the  command.  Geoffrey  explained  his  friend's  absence. 

"The  bad  boy,"  she  said,  "he  wants  to  get  away  from 
me  in  order  to  think  about  a  lot  of  music.  But  I  don't 
care !" 

Under  a  steady  wind  they  sheered  through  the  water. 
On  the  right  hand  was  Chuzenji  village,  a  Swiss  effect 
of  brown  chalets  dwarfed  to  utter  insignificance  by  the 
huge  wooded  mountain  dome  of  Nantai  San  which  rose 
behind  it.  On  the  left  the  forest  was  supreme  already, 
except  where  in  small  clearings  five  or  six  houses*,  ten- 
anted by  foreign  diplomats,  stood  out  above  the  lake.  A 
little  farther  on  a  Buddhist  temple  slumbered  above  a 
flight  of  broad  stone  steps.  The  sacred  buildings  were 
freshly  lacquered,  and  red  as  a  new  toy.  In  front,  on  the 
slope  of  golden  sand,  its  base  bathed  by  the  tiny  waves, 
stood  the  torii,  the  wooden  archway  which  is  Japan's  uni- 
versal religious  symbol.  Its  message  is  that  of  the 
Wicket  Gate  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  Wherever  it  is 
to  be  seen — and  it  is  to  be  seen  everywhere — it  stands 
for  the  entering  in  of  the  Way,  whether  that  way  be 
"Shinto"  (The  Way  of  the  Gods),  or  "Butsudo"  (The 
Way  of  the  Buddhas),  or  "Bushido"  (The  Way  of  the 
Warriors). 

There  was  plenty  of  breeze.  The  boat  shot  down  the 
length  of  the  lake  at  a  delicious  speed.  The  two  voy- 
agers reached  at  last  a  little  harbour,  Shobu-ga-Hama — 
The  Beach  of  the  Lilies — a  muddy  shore  with  slimy 
rocks,  a  few  brown  cottages  and  a  saw-mill. 

"Let's  go  and  see  the  waterfall,"  suggested  Yae,  "it's 
only  a  few  minutes." 

They  walked  together  up  a  steep  winding  lane.  The 
fresh  air  and  the  birch  trees,  the  sight  of  real  Alderney 
cows  grazing  on  patches  of  real  grass,  the  distant  rumble 
of  the  cataract  brought  back  to  Geoffrey  a  feeling  of 
strength  and  well-being  to  which  he  had  for  weeks  been 
a  stranger. 


222  KIMONO 

If  only  the  real  Asako  had  been  with  him  instead  of 
this  enigmatic  and  disquieting  image  of  her ! 

The  Japanese,  who  have  an  innate  love  for  natural 
beauty,  never  fail  to  mark  an  exceptional  view  with  a 
little  bench  or  shelter  for  travelers,  whence  they  can  ob- 
tain the  best  perspective.  If  sight-seers  frequent  the 
spot  in  any  number,  there  will  be  an  old  dame  en  gueritc, 
with  her  picture  post-cards  and  her  Ebisu  Beer,  her 
"Champagne  Cider,"  her  scntbei  (round  and  salted  bis- 
cuits) and  her  tale  of  the  local  legend. 

"Irrasshai!  Irrasshai;"  she  pipes.  "Come,  come,  please 
rest  a  little!" 

But  the  cascade  above  Shobu-ga-Hama  is  only  one 
among  the  thousand  lesser  waterfalls  of  this  mountain 
country.  It  is  honoured  merely  by  an  unsteady  bench 
under  a  broken  roof,  and  by  a  rope  knotted  round  the 
trunk  of  a  tall  tree  in  mid-stream  to  indicate  that  the 
locality  is  an  abode  of  spirits,  and  to  warn  passers-by 
against  inconsiderately  offending  the  Undine. 

Geoffrey  and  Yae  were  balancing  themselves  on  the 
bench,  gazing  at  the  race  of  foam  and  at  the  burnished 
bracken.  The  Englishman  was  clearing  his  mind  for 
action. 

"Miss  Smith,"  he  began  at  last,  "do  you  think  you  will 
be  happy  with  Reggie?" 

"He  says  so,  big  captain,"  answered  the  little  half- 
caste,  her  mouth  queerly  twisted. 

"Because  if  you  are  not  happy,  Reggie  won't  be  happy ; 
and  if  you  are  neither  of  you  happy,  you  will  be  sorry 
that  you  married." 

"But  we  are  not  married  yet,"  said  the  girl,  "we  are 
only  engaged." 

"But  you  will  be  married  sometime,  I  suppose?" 

"This  year,  next  year,  sometime,  never !"  laughed  Yae. 
"It  is  nice  to  be  engaged,  and  it  is  such  a  protection. 
When  I  am  not  engaged,  all  the  old  cats,  Lady  Cynthia 
and  the  rest,  say  that  I  flirt.  Now  when  I  am  engaged, 
my  fiance  is  here  to  shield  me.  Then  they  dare  not  say 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS         223 

things,  or  it  comes  round  to  him,  and  he  is  angry.  So  I 
can  do  anything  I  like  when  I  am  engaged." 

This  was  a  new  morality  for  Geoffrey.  It  knocked 
the  text  from  under  the  sermon  which  he  had  been  pre- 
paring. She  was  as  preposterous  as  Reggie ;  but  she  was 
not,  like  him,  conscious  of  her  preposterousness. 

"Then,  when  you  are  married,  will  you  flirt?"  asked 
her  companion. 

"I  think  so,"  said  Yae  gravely.  "Besides,  Reggie  only 
wants  me  to  dress  me  up  and  write  music  about  me.  If  I 
am  always  the  same  like  an  English  doll  wife,  he  won't 
get  many  tunes  to  play.  Reggie  is  like  a  girl." 

"Reggie  is  too  good  for  you,"  said  the  Englishman, 
roughly. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Yae.  "I  don't  want  Reggie, 
but  Reggie  wants  me." 

"What  do  you  want  then?" 

"I  want  a  great  big  man  with  arms  and  legs  like  a 
wrestler.  A  man  who  hunts  lions.  He  will  pick  me  up 
like  you  did  at  Kamakura,  big  captain,  and  throw  me 
in  the  air  and  catch  me  again.  And  I  will  take  him  away 
from  the  woman  he  loves,  so  that  he  will  hate  me  and 
beat  me  for  it.  And  when  he  sees  on  my  back  the  marks 
of  the  whip  and  the  blood  he  will  love  me  again  so 
strongly  that  he  will  become  weak  and  silly  like  a  baby. 
Then  I  will  look  after  him  and  nurse  him ;  and  we  will 
drink  wine  together.  And  we  will  go  for  long  rides  to- 
gether on  horseback  in  the  moonlight  galloping  along 
the  sands  by  the  edge  of  the  sea !" 

Geoffrey  was  gazing  at  her  with  alarm.  Was  she  going 
mad?  The  girl  jumped  up  and  laid  her  little  hands  on 
his  shoulder. 

"There,  big  captain,"  she  cried,  "don't  be  frightened. 
That  is  only  one  of  Reggie's  piano  tunes.  I  never  heard 
tunes  like  his  before.  He  plays  them,  and  then  explains 
to  me  what  each  note  means ;  and  then  he  plays  the  tune 
again,  and  I  can  see  the  whole  story.  That  is  why  I  love 
him — sometimes !" 

"Then   you   do   love   him?"     Geoffrey   was    clutching 


224  KIMONO 

pathetically  for  anything  which  he  could  understand  or 
appeal  to  in  this  elusive  person. 

"I  love  him,"  said  Yae,  pirouetting  on  her  white  toes 
near  the  edge  of  the  chasm,  "and  I  love  you  and  I  love 
any  man  who  is  worth  loving !" 

They  returned  to  the  lake  in  silence.  Geoffrey's  ser- 
mon was  abortive.  This  girl  was  altogether  outside  the 
circle  of  his  code  of  Good  Form.  He  might  as  well  preach 
vegetarianism  to  a  leopard.  Yet  she  fascinated  him,  as 
she  fascinated  all  men  who  were  not  as  dry  as  Aubrey 
Laking.  She  was  so  pretty,  so  frail  and  so  fearless.  Life 
had  not  given  her  a  fair  chance ;  and  she  appealed  to 
the  chivalrous  instinct  in  men,  as  well  as  to  their  less 
creditable  passions.  She  was  such  a  butterfly  creature ; 
and  the  flaring  lamps  of  life  had  such  a  fatal  attraction 
for  her. 

The  wind  was  blowing  straight  against  the  harbour. 
The  bay  of  Shobu-ga-Hama  was  shallow  water.  Try 
as  he  might,  Geoffrey  could  not  manoeuvre  the  little  yacht 
into  the  open  waters  of  the  lake. 

"We  are  on  a  lee-shore,"  said  Geoffrey. 

At  the  end  he  had  to  get  down  and  wade  bare-legged, 
towing  the  boat  after  him  until  at  last  Yae  announced 
that  the  centreboard  had  been  lowered  and  that  the  boat 
was  answering  to  the  helm. 

Geoffrey  clambered  in  dripping.  He  shook  himself 
like  a  big  dog  after  a  swim. 

"Reggie  could  never  have  done  that,"  said  Yae,  with 
fervent  admiration.  "He  would  be  afraid  of  catching 
cold." 

At  last  they  reached  the  steps  of  the  villa.  They  were 
both  hungry. 

"I  am  going  to  stop  to  lunch,  big  captain,"  said  Yae. 
"Reggie  won't  be  back." 

"How  do  you  know  ?" 

"Because  I  saw  Gwendolen  Cairns  listening  last  even- 
ing when  he  spoke  to  me  through  the  big  trumpet.  She 
tells  Lady  Cynthia,  and  that  means  a  lot  of  work  next 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS         225 

day  for  poor  Reggie,  so  that  he  can't  spend  his  time  with 
me.  You  see !  Oh,  how  I  hate  women !" 

After  lunch,  at  Chuzenji,  all  the  world  goes  to  sleep. 
It  awakes  at  about  four  o'clock,  when  the  white  sails 
come  gliding  out  of  the  green  bays  like  swans.  They 
greet,  or  avoid.  They  run  side  by  side  for  the  length  of 
a  puff  of  breeze.  They  coquet  with  one  another  like  but- 
terflies; or  they  head  for  one  of  those  hidden  beaches 
which  are  the  principal  charm  of  the  lake,  where  baskets 
are  unpacked  and  cakes  and  sandwiches  appear,  where 
dry  sticks  are  gathered  for  a  rustic  fire,  and  after  an 
hour  or  more  of  anxious  stoking  the  kettle  boils. 

"Of  all  the  Japanese  holiday  places,  Chuzenji  is  the 
most  select  and  the  most  agreeable,"  Reggie  Forsyth  ex- 
plained ;  "it  is  the  only  place  in  all  Japan  where  the  for- 
eigner is  genuinely  popular  and  respected.  He  spends  his 
money  freely,  he  does  not  swear  or  scold.  The  woman- 
chasing,  whisky-swilling  type,  who  has  disgraced  us  in 
the  open  ports,  is  unknown  here.  These  native  moun- 
taineers are  rough  and  uneducated  savages,  but  they  are 
honest  and  healthy.  We  feel  on  easy  terms  with  them, 
as  we  do  with  our  own  peasantry.  In  the  village  street 
of  Chuzenji  I  have  seen  a  young  English  officer  instruct- 
ing the  sons  of  boatmen  and  woodcutters  in  the  mys- 
teries of  cricket." 

In  Chuzenji  there  are  no  Japanese  visitors  except  the 
pilgrims  who  throng  to  the  lake  during  the  season  for 
climbing  the  holy  mountain  of  Nantai.  These  are  coun- 
try people,  all  of  them,  from  villages  all  over  Japan,  who 
have  drawn  lucky  lots  in  the  local  pilgrimage  club.  One 
can  recognize  them  at  once  by  their  dingy  white  clothes, 
like  grave-clothes — men  and  women  are  garbed  alike — 
by  their  straw  mushroom  hats,  by  the  strip  of  straw 
matting  strapped  across  their  shoulders,  and  by  the  long 
wooden  staves  which  they  carry  and  which  will  be 
stamped  with  the  seal  of  the  mountain-shrine  when  they 
have  reached  the  summit.  These  pilgrims  are  lodged 
free  by  the  temple  on  the  lake-side,  in  long  sheds  like 
cattle-byres. 


226  KIMONO 

The  endless  files  of  lean  pack-horses,  laden  with  bags 
of  rice  and  other  provisions,  the  ruddy  sexless  girls  who 
lead  them,  and  the  women  who  have  been  foraging  for 
wood  and  come  down  from  the  mountain  with  enormous 
faggots  on  their  bent  shoulders,  provide  a  foreground 
for  the  Chuzenji  landscape. 

Geoffrey  was  sleeping  upstairs  in  his  bedroom.  Yae 
was  sleeping  downstairs  on  the  sofa.  He  had  expected 
her  to  return  to  the  hotel  after  lunch,  but  her  attitude 
was  that  of  "J'y  snis,  j'y  restc." 

He  awoke  with  a  start  to  find  the  girl  standing  beside 
his  bed.  Afterwards  he  became  sure  that  he  had  been 
awakened  by  the  touch  of  soft  fingers  on  his  face. 

"Wake  up,  big  captain,"  she  was  saying.  "It  is  four 
o'clock,  and  the  Ark's  coming." 

"What  Ark?"  he  yawned. 

"Why,  the  Embassy  boat." 

Out  of  sheer  devilry,  Miss  Smith  waited  for  the  arrival 
of  Lady  Cynthia.  The  great  lady  paid  no  more  attention 
to  her  existence  than  if  she  had  been  a  piece  of  the  house. 
But  she  greeted  Geoffrey  most  cordially. 

"Come  for  a  walk,"  she  said  in  her  abrupt  way. 

As  they  turned  down  the  village  street  she  announced : 

"The  worst  has  happened — I  suppose  you  know  ?" 

"About  Reggie?" 

"Yes ;  he's  actually  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  crea- 
ture. Has  he  told  you?" 

"In  the  greatest  confidence." 

"Welt,  he  forgot  to  bind  his  young  lady  to  secrecy. 
She  has  told  everybody." 

"Can't  he  be  recalled  to  London?" 

"The  old  man  says  that  would  just  push  him  over  the 
edge.  He  has  talked  of  resigning  from  the  service." 

"Is  there  anything  to  be  done?" 

"Nothing!  Let  him  marry  her.  It  will  spoil  his  career 
in  diplomacy,  of  course.  But  he  will  soon  get  tired  of  her 
fooling  him.  He  will  divorce  her,  and  will  give  up  his 
life  to  music  to  which,  of  course,  he  belongs.  People 


AMONG  THE  NIKKO  MOUNTAINS         227 

like   Reggie   Forsyth  have  no   right   to   marry   at   all." 

"But  are  you  sure  that  she  wants  to  marry  him?"  said 
his  friend ;  and  he  related  his  conversation  with  Yae  that 
morning. 

"That's  very  interesting  and  encouraging,"  said  Her 
Excellency.  "So  she  has  been  trying  her  hand  on  you 
already." 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  exclaimed  Geoffrey.  "Why, 
she  knows  that  Reggie  is  my  best  friend ;  and  that  I  am 
married." 

The  judicial  features  of  Lady  Cynthia  lightened  with  a 
judicial  smile. 

"You  have  been  through  so  many  London  seasons,, 
Captain  Barrington,  and  there  is  still  no  guile  in  you !" 

They  walked  on  in  silence  past  the  temple  terraces 
down  a  winding  country  lane. 

"Captain  Barrington,  would  you  care  to  play  the  part 
of  a  real  hero,  a  real  theatre  hero,  playing  to  the  gal- 
lery?" 

Geoffrey  was  baffled.  Had  the  talk  suddenly  swung 
over  to  amateur  theatricals?  Lady  Cynthia  was  a  ter- 
rible puller  of  legs. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  Madge  Carlyle?"  she  asked,  "or 
was  she  before  your  time  ?" 

"I  have  heard  of  her." 

She  was  a  famous  London  cocotte  in  the  days  when 
mashers  wore  whiskers  and  "Champagne  Charlie"  was 
sung. 

"At  the  age  of  forty-three"'  said  Lady  Cynthia, 
"Madge  decided  to  marry  for  the  third  or  fourth  time. 
She  had  found  a  charming  young  man  with  plenty  of 
money  and  a  noble  heart,  who  believed  that  Madge  was  a 
much  slandered  woman.  His  friends  were  sorry  for  the 
young  man ;  and  one  of  them  decided  to  give  a  dinner  to 
celebrate  the  betrothal.  In  the  middle  of  the  feast  an 
urgent  message  arrived  for  the  enamoured  one,  sum- 
moning him  to  his  home.  When  he  had  gone  the  others 
started  plying  poor  Madge  with  drinks.  She  was  very 
fond  of  drinks.  They  had  splendid  fun.  Then  one  of  the 


228  KIMONO 

guests  —  he  was  an  old  lover  of  Madge's  —  suggested  — 
Good-bye  to  the  old  days  and  the  rest  of  it! 

"But  what  did  he  think  of  his  friends?"  asked  Geof- 
frey. "It  seems  a  low-down  sort  of  trick." 

"He  was  very  sore  about  it  at  the  time,"  said  Lady 
Cynthia;  "but  afterwards  he  understood  that  they  were 
heroes,  real  theatre  heroes." 

"It  looks  like  rain,"  said  Geoffrey,  uneasily. 

So  they  turned  back,  talking  about  London  people. 

The  first  drops  fell  as  they  were  passing  through  the 
wicket  gate;  and  they  entered  the  house  during  a  roar 
of  thunder.  Reggie  was  alone. 

"I  see  that  my  fate  is  sealed,"  he  said,  as  he  rose  to 
meet  them.  "  '  The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the 
death  of  princes!'" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

YAE  SMITH 

Nusubito  wo  The  thief— 

Toraete  mireba  When  I  caught  him  and  looked 

Waga  ko  wan".  at  him, 

Lo !  my  own  child ! 

A  WEEK  of  very  hard  work  began  for  Reggie.  The 
Ambassador  was  reporting  home  on  every  imaginable 
subject  from  political  assassination  to  the  manufacture 
of  celluloid.  This  was  part  of  Lady  Cynthia's  scheme. 
She  was  determined  to  throw  Yae  Smith  and  Geoffrey 
Harrington  together  all  the  time,  and  to  risk  the  conse- 
quences. 

So  Yae  though  she  had  her  room  at  the  hotel,  became 
an  inmate  of  Reggie's  villa.  She  took  all  her  meals  there, 
and  her  siesta  during  most  of  the  afternoons.  She  even 
passed  whole  nights  with  Reggie ;  and  their  relations 
could  no  longer  be  a  secret  even  to  Geoffrey's  laborious 
discretion. 

This  knowledge  troubled  him ;  for  the  presence  of 
lovers,  and  the  shadows  cast  by  their  intimacies  are  al- 
ways disquieting  even  to  the  purest  minds.  But  Geof- 
frey felt  that  it  was  no  business  of  his ;  and  that  Reggie 
and  Yae  being  what  they  were,  it  would  be  useless 
hypocrisy  for  him  to  censure  their  pleasures. 

Meanwhile,  Asako  was  writing  to  him,  bewailing  her 
loneliness.  So  one  morning  at  breakfast  he  announced 
that  he  must  be  getting  back  to  Tokyo.  A  cloud  passed 
over  Yae's  face. 

"Not  yet,  big  captain,"  she  expostulated ;  "I  want  to 
take  you  right  to  the  far  end  of  the  lake  where  the  bears 
live." 

"Very  well,"  agreed  Geoffrey,  "to-morrow  morning 
early,  then;  for  the  next  day  I  really  must  go." 

229 


230  KIMONO 

He  wrote  to  Asako  a  long  letter  with  much  about  the 
lake  and  Yae  Smith,  promising  to  return  within  forty- 
eight  hours. 

At  daybreak  next  morning  Yae  was  hammering  at 
Geoffrey's  door. 

"Wake  up,  old  sleepy  captain,"  she  cried. 

Geoffrey  got  the  boat  ready ;  and  Yae  prepared  a  picnic 
breakfast  to  be  eaten  on  the  way.  Poor  Reggie,  of 
course,  had  work  at  the  Embassy ;  he  could  not  come. 

It  was  an  ideal  excursion.  They  reached  Senju,  the 
woodcutter's  village  at  the  end  of  the  lake.  They 
ascended  the  forest  path  as  far  as  the  upper  lake,  a  mere 
pond  of  reeds  and  sedges,  which  the  bears  are  supposed 
to  haunt. 

Geoffrey  and  Yae,  however,  saw  nothing  more  alarming 
than  the  village  curs. 

"Returned  in  safety  from  the  land  of  danger!"  cried 
the  girl,  as  she  sprang  ashore  at  the  steps  of  the  villa. 

The  air  and  exercise  had  wearied  Geoffrey.  After 
lunch  he  changed  into  a  kimono  of  Reggie's.  Then  he  lay 
down  on  his  bed  and  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  could  not  say ;  but  he  awoke 
slowly  out  of  confusing  dreams.  Somebody  was  in  his 
room.  Somebody  was  near  his  bed.  Was  it  Asako? 
Was  it  a  dream? 

No,  it  was  his  comrade  of  the  morning's  voyage.  It 
was  Yae  Smith.  She  was  sitting  on  the  bed  beside  him. 
She  was  gazing  into  his  face  with  her  soft,  still,  cat-like 
eyes.  What  was  she  doing  that  for?  She  was  stroking 
his  arm.  Her  touch  was  soft.  He  did  not  stop  her. 

Her  hair  was  let  down  to  below  her  waist,  long  black 
hair,  more  silky  in  texture  and  more  wavy  than  that  of  a 
pure  Japanese  woman.  Her  kimono  was  wide  open  at 
the  throat.  A  sweet  fragrance  exhaled  from  her  body. 

"Big  captain,  may  I?"    she  pleaded. 

"What?"    said  Goeffrey,  still  half  asleep. 

"Just  lie  by  your  side  —  just  once^ — just  for  the  last 
time,"  she  cooed. 


YAfi  SMITH  231 

Geoffrey  was  for  going  to  sleep  again,  well  pleased 
with  his  dream.  But  Ya6  slipped  an  arm  across  his 
chest,  and  caught  his  shoulder  in  her  hand.  She  nestled 
closer  to  him. 

"Geoffrey,"  she  murmured,  "I  love  you  so  much.  You 
are  so  strong  and  so  big,  Geoffrey.  I  want  to  stay  like 
this  always,  always,  holding  on  to  you  till  I  make  you 
love  me.  Love  me  just  a  little,  Geoffrey.  Nobody  will 
ever  know.  Geoffrey,  it  must  be  nice  to  have  me  near 
you.  Geoffrey,  you  must,  you  must  want  to  love  me." 

She  was  hugging  his  body  now  in  an  embrace  astonish- 
ingly powerful  for  so  small  a  creature.  It  was  this  pres- 
sure which  finally  awoke  Geoffrey.  Gently  he  disengaged 
her  arms  and  sat  up  in  the  bed. 

She  was  clinging  to  his  neck  now,  wild-eyed  like  a 
Maenad.  He  felt  pitifully  ridiculous.  The  r61e  of  Joseph 
is  so  thankless  and  humiliating.  A  month  ago  he  would 
have  ordered  her  sternly  to  get  out  of  the  room  and  be- 
have herself.  But  the  hot  month  in  Tokyo  had  relaxed 
his  firmness  of  mind;  and  familiarity  with  Reggie's  bo- 
hemian  morality  has  sapped  his  fortress  of  Good  Form. 

"Don't  be  so  naughty,  Ya^,"  he  said  feebly.  "Reggie 
may  be  coming.  For  God's  sake,  control  yourself." 

Her  voice  was  terrible  now. 

Geoffrey  had  lost  the  first  moment  when  he  might 
have  been  stern  with  her.  Clumsily  he  tried  to  loosen 
her  embrace.  But  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  in 
the  grip  of  an  elemental  natural  force,  a  thing  foreign  to 
his  experience  of  women  in  marriage  or  out  of  it. 

"Yae\  don't,"  he  gasped,  pushing  the  girl  away.  "I 
can't;  I'm  married." 

"Married!"  she  screamed.  " Does  marriage  hurt  like 
this?  Love  me,  love  me,  Geoffrey.  You  must  love  me, 
you  will!" 

"The  rhapsody  is  ended!" 

A  voice  which  nobody  would  have  recognized  as 
Reggie's  put  a  sudden  end  to  this  frantic  assault. 

He  was  standing  in  the  doorway  smiling  queerly.    He 


232  KIMONO 

had  watched  the  two  from  the  garden,  whence  indeed 
all  Chuzenji  could  have  seen  them  in  the  open  bedroom. 
He  had  slipped  off  his  shoes  and  had  stolen  up  quietly 
in  order  to  listen  to  them.  Now  he  judged  it  time  to  in- 
tervene. 

Yae~  started  up  from  the  bed.  For  a  moment  she 
hovered  on  the  edge,  uncertain  of  her  tactics.  Geoffrey 
stared,  one  hand  to  his  forehead.  Then  the  girl  darted 
across  the  room,  fell  at  Reggie's  feet,  clasped  his  knees, 
and  sobbed  convulsively. 

"  Reggie,  Reggie,  forgive  me !"  she  cried.  "  It's  not  my 
fault.  He's  been  asking  me  and  asking  me  to  do  this  — 
ever  since  Kamakura  —  and  all  the  time  here.  This  is 
what  he  came  to  stay  here  for.  Reggie,  forgive  me.  I 
will  never  be  naughty  again." 

Reggie  looked  across  at  his  friend  for  confirmation  or 
denial.  The  queer  smile  had  vanished.  Good  Form  de- 
creed that  the  man  must  lie  for  the  woman's  sake,  if 
necessary  till  his  soul  were  damned.  But,  with  Geoffrey, 
Good  Form  had  long  since  been  thrown  to  the  winds,  like 
International  Law  in  war  time.  Besides,  the  woman 
was  no  better  than  a  cocotte;  and  Reggie's  friendship  was 
at  stake. 

"  No,"  he  said  huskily;  "that  is  not  true.  I  was  quietly 
sleeping  here  and  she  came  up  to  me.  She  is  man- 
mad." 

The  tangled  heap  at  Reggie's  feet  leaped  up,  her  green 
eyes  blazing. 

"Liar!"  she  cried.  " Reggie,  do  you  believe  him ?  The 
hypocrite,  the  goody-goody,  the  white  slave  man,  the 
pimp!" 

"What  does  she  mean?"  said  Geoffrey.  Thank  God, 
the  woman  was  clearly  mad. 

"Fujinami!  Fujinami!"  she  yelled.  "The  great  girl 
king!  The  Yoshiwara  daimyo!  Every  scrap  of  money 
which  his  fool  wife  spends  on  sham  curios  was  made  in 
the  Yoshiwara,  made  by  women,  made  out  of  filth,  made 
by  prostitutes!" 

The  last  word  brought  Geoffrey  to  his  feet.  In  his 
real  agony  he  had  quite  forgotten  his  sham  sin. 


YAfi  SMITH  233 

"Reggie,  for  God's  sake,  tell  me,  is  this  true?" 

"Yes,"  said  Reggie  quietly,  "it  is  quite  true." 

"Then  why  did  no  one  tell  me?" 

"Husbands,"  said  the  young  man,  "and  prospective 
husbands  are  always  the  last  to  learn.  Ya^,  go  back  to 
the  hotel.  You  have  done  enough  harm  for  to-day." 

"Not  unless  you  forgive  me,  Reggie,"  the  girl  pleaded. 
"I  will  never  go  unless  you  forgive." 

"I  can't  forgive,"  he  said,  "but  I  can  probably  forget." 

The  wrath  of  these  two  men  fascinated  her.  She 
would  have  waited  if  she  could,  listening  at  the  door. 
Reggie  knew  this. 

"If  you  don't  clear  out,  Yae",  I  will  have  to  call  To  to 
take  you,"  he  threatened. 

To  his  great  relief  she  went  quietly. 

Reggie  returned  to  the  bare  bedroom,  where  Geoffrey 
with  bowed  head  was  staring  at  the  floor.  In  Reggie's 
short  kimono  the  big  man  looked  decidedly  ridiculous. 

"Good,"  thought  Reggie.  "Thank  God  for  the  comic 
spirit.  It  will  be  easier  to  get  through  with  this  now." 

His  first  action  was  to  wash  his  hands.  He  had  an 
unconscious  instinct  for  symbolism.  Then  he  sat  down 
oppositej[his  friend. 

The  action  of  sitting  reduces  tragedy  to  comedy  at 
once, — this  was  one  of  Napoleon's  maxims. 

Then  he  opened  his  cigarette  case  and  offered  it  to 
Geoffrey.  This,  too,  was  symbolic.  Geoffrey  took  a 
cigarette  mechanically,  and  sucked  it  between  his  lips, 
unlighted. 

"Geoffrey,"  said  his  friend  very  quietly,  "let  us  try  to 
put  these  women  and  all  their  rottenness  out  of  our 
heads.  We  will  try  to  talk  this  over  decently." 

Geoffrey  was  so  stunned  by  the  shock  of  what  he  had 
just  learned  that  he  had  thought  of  nothing  else.  Now, 
all  of  a  sudden  he  remembered  that  he  owed  serious  ex- 
planations to  his  friend. 

"Reggie,"  he  said  dully,  "I'm  most  awfully  sorry.  I 
had  never  dreamed  of  this.  I  was  good  pals  with  Ya6 
because  of  you.  I  never  dreamed  of  making  love  to  her. 


234  KIMONO 

You  know  how  I  love  my  wife.  She  must  have  been  mad 
to  think  of  me  like  that.  Besides,"  he  added  sheepishly, 
"nothing  actually  happened." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  care  what  actually  happened  or 
did  not  happen.  Damn  actual  facts.  They  distort 
the  truth.  They  are  at  the  bottom  of  every  injustice. 
What  actually  happened  never  matters.  It  is  the  pic- 
ture which  sticks  in  one's  brain.  True  or  false,  it  sticks 
just  the  same;  and  suddenly  or  slowly  it  alters  every 
thing.  But  I  can  wipe  up  my  own  mess,  I  think.  It  is 
much  more  serious  with  you  than  with  me,  Geoffrey. 
She  has  bruised  my  heel,  but  she  has  broken  your 
head.  No,  don't  protest,  for  Heaven's  sake!  I  am  not 
interested." 

"Then  what  she  says  is  absolutely  true?"  said  Geof- 
frey, lighting  his  cigarette  at  last,  and  throwing  the 
match  aside  as  if  it  were  Hope.  "For  a  whole  year 
I  have  been  living  on  prostitutes'  earnings.  I  am  no 
better  than  those  awful  ponces  in  Leicester  Square, 
who  can  be  flogged  if  they  are  caught,  and  serve  them 
right  too.  And  all  that  filthy  Yoshiwara,  it  belongs 
to  Asako,  to  my  sweet  innocent  little  girl,  just  as  Brandan 
belongs  to  my  father;  and  with  all  this  filthy  money 
we  have  been  buying  comforts  and  clothes  and  curios 
and  rubbish." 

Reggie  was  pouring  out  whiskies  and  sodas,  two 
strong  ones.  Geoffrey  gulped  down  his  drink,  and  then 
proceeded  with  his  lamentation: 

"I  understand  it  all  now.  Everybody  knew.  The 
secrecy  and  the  mystery.  Even  at  my  wedding  they 
were  saying,  'Don't  go  to  Japan,  don't  go.'  They 
must  have  all  known  even  then.  And  then  those  damned 
Fujinami,  so  anxious  to  be  civil  for  the  beastly  money's 
sake,  and  yet  hiding  everything  and  lying  all  the 
time.  And  you  knew,  and  the  Ambassador,  and 
Count  Saito,  and  the  servants  too  —  always  whis- 
pering and  laughing  behind  our  backs.  But  you, 
Reggie,  you  were  my  friend,  you  ought  to  have 
told  me." 

"I  asked  Sir  Ralph,"  said  Reggie  candidly,  "whether 


YAfi  SMITH  235 

you  ought  to  be  told.  He  is  a  very  wise  man.  He  said, 
'No.'  He  said,  'It  would  be  cruel  and  it  would  be  use- 
less. They  will  go  back  to  England  soon  and  then 
they  will  never  know.'  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  you 
understand?" 

"It  was  unfair,"  groaned  Geoffrey;  "you  were  all  de- 
ceiving me." 

"I  said  to  Sir  Ralph  that  it  seemed  to  me  unfair  and 
dangerous.  But  he  has  more  experience  than  I." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  now?"  said  the  big  man  help- 
lessly. "This  money  must  be  given  up,  yes,  and  every- 
thing we  have.  But  whom  to?  Not  to  those  filthy 
Fujinami?" 

"Go  slow,"  advised  Reggie.  "Go  back  to  England 
first.  Get  your  brain  clear.  Talk  it  over  with  your 
lawyers.  Don't  be  too  generous.  Magnanimity  has 
spoiled  many  noble  lives.  And  remember  that  your 
wife  is  in  this  too.  You  must  consider  her  first.  She 
is  very  young  and  she  knows  nothing.  I  don't  think 
that  she  wants  to  be  poor,  or  that  she  will  understand 
your  motives." 

"I  will  make  her  understand  then,"  said  Geoffrey. 

"Don't  talk  like  a  brute.  You  will  have  to  be  very 
patient  and  considerate  for  her.  Go  slow!" 

"Can  I  stop  here  to-night,  then?"  asked  Barrington, 
plaintively. 

"No,"  said  Reggie  with  firmness;  "that  is  really  more 
than  I  could  stick.  I  told  you — truth  or  untruth,  the 
mind  keeps  on  seeing  pictures.  Pack  up  your  things. 
Call  a  coolie.  The  evening  walk  down  to  Nikko  will  do 
you  more  good  than  my  jawing.  Good-bye." 

An  unreal  handshake — and  he  was  gone. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  Geoffrey  realized  that,  how  very 
unwittingly,  he  had  deeply  wronged  this  man  who  was 
his  best  friend  and  upon  whom  he  was  leaning  in  his 
hour  of  trial.  Like  Job,  his  adversities  were  coming 
upon  him  from  this  side  and  from  that,  until  he  must 
curse  God  and  die.  Now  his  friend  had  given  him  his 
dismissal.  He  would  probably  never  see  Reggie  Forsyth 
again. 


236  KIMONO 

As  he  was  starting  on  his  long  walk  downhill  a  motor 
car  passed  him.  Only  one  motor  car  that  season  had 
climbed  the  precipitous  road  from  the  plains.  It  must 
be  Yae"  Smith's.  Just  as  it  was  passing  the  girl  leaned 
out  of  the  carriage  and  blew  a  kiss  to  Geoffrey. 

She  was  not  alone.  There  was  a  small  fat  man  in  the 
car  beside  her,  a  Japanese  with  a  round  impertinent  face. 
With  a  throb  of  bitter  heart-sickness  Geoffrey  recognized 
his  own  servant,  Tanaka. 

Next  morning  Reggie  Forsyth  crossed  the  lake  as 
usual  to  his  work  at  the  Embassy.  He  met  the  Ambas- 
sadress on  the  terrace  of  her  villa. 

"Good  morning,  Lady  Cynthia,"  he  said,  "I  congratu- 
late you  on  your  masterly  diplomacy." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Her  manner  nowadays  was  very  chilly  towards  her 
former  favourite. 

"In  accordance  with  your  admirable  arrangements,"  he 
said,  "my  marriage  is  off." 

"Oh,  Reggie,"  her  coolness  changed  at  once,  "I'm  so 
glad " 

He  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"But — you  have  broken  a  better  man  than  I." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Geoffrey  Barrington.  He  has  learned  who  the  Fu- 
jinami  are,  and  where  his  money  comes  from." 

"You  told  him?" 

"I'm  not  such  a  skunk  as  all  that,  Lady  Cynthia." 

Her  Excellency  was  pondering  what  had  better  be  done 
for  Geoffrey. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  asked. 

"He  stopped  the  night  at  Nikko.  He  is  probably  in 
the  train  for  Tokyo  by  now." 

If  she  were  a  hero,  a  real  theatre  hero,  as  Geoffrey 
had  been  apparently,  she  would  go  straight  off  to  Tokyo 
also;  and  perhaps  she  would  be  able  to  prevent  a  catas- 
trophe. Or  perhaps  she  would  not.  Perhaps  she  would 
only  make  things  worse.  On  the  whole,  she  had  better 
stop  in  Chuzenji  and  look  after  her  own  husband. 


YAfi  SMITH  237 

"Reggie,"  she  said,  "you've  had  a  lucky  escape.  How 
did  you  know  that  I  had  any  hand  in  this?  You're  more 
of  a  girl  than  a  man.  A  rotten  marriage  would  have 
broken  you.  Geoffrey  Bamngton  is  made  of  stronger 
stuff.  He  is  in  for  a  bad  time.  But  he  will  learn  a  lot 
which  you  know  already;  and  he  will  survive." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  KIMONO 

Na  wo  to  Ufa  wo  It  is  other  people  who  have    sepa- 

Hito  20  saku  naru.  rated 

Ide,  wagimil  You  and  me. 

Hito  no  naka-goto  Come,  my  Lord! 

Kiki-kosu  na  yumet  Do  not  dream  of  listening 

To  the  between-words  of  people  1 

AFTER  a  ghastly  night  of  sleeplessness  at  Nikko,  Geof- 
frey Barrington  reached  Tokyo  in  time  for  lunch.  His 
thoughts  were  confused  and  discordant. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  drunk  for  a  week,"  he  kept  on 
saying  to  himself.  Indeed,  he  felt  a  fume  of  unreality 
over  all  his  actions. 

One  thing  was  certain:  financially,  he  was  a  ruined 
man.  The  thousands  a  year  which  yesterday  morning 
had  been  practically  his,  the  ease  and  comfort  which  had 
seemed  so  secure,  were  lost  more  hopelessly  than  if  his 
bank  had  failed.  Even  the  cash  in  his  pocket  he  touched 
with  the  greatest  disgust,  as  if  those  identical  bills  and 
coins  had  been  paid  across  the  brothel  counter  as  the 
price  for  a  man's  dirty  pleasures  and  a  girl's  shame  and 
disease.  He  imagined  that  the  Nikko  hotelkeeper  looked 
at  his  notes  suspiciously  as  though  they  were  endorsed 
with  the  seal  of  the  Yoshiwara. 

Geoffrey  was  ruined.  He  was  henceforth  dependent 
on  what  his  brain  could  earn  and  on  what  his  father 
would  allow  him,  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  at  the  out- 
side. If  he  had  been  alone  in  the  world  it  would  not  have 
mattered  much ;  but  Asako,  poor  little  Asako,  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  this  disaster,  she  was  ruined  too.  She  who 
loved  her  riches,  her  jewellery,  her  pretty  things,  she  would 
have  to  sell  them  all.  She  would  have  to  follow  him 
into  poverty,  she,  who  had  no  experience  of  its  meaning. 

238 


THE  KIMONO  239 

This  was  his  punishment,  perhaps,  for  having  steadily 
pursued  the  idea  of  a  rich  marriage.  But  what  had  Asako 
done  to  deserve  it?  Thank  God,  his  marriage  had  at 
least  not  been  a  loveless  one. 

Geoffrey  felt  acutely  the  need  of  human  sympathy  in 
his  trouble.  By  sheer  bad  luck  he  had  forfeited  Reggie's 
friendship.  But  he  could  still  depend  upon  his  wife's  love. 

So  he  ran  up  the  stairs  at  the  Imperial  Hotel  longing 
for  Asako's  welcome,  though  he  dreaded  the  obliga- 
tion to  break  the  bad  news. 

He  threw  open  the  door.  The  room  was  empty.  He 
looked  for  cloaks  and  hats  and  curios,  for  luggage,  for 
any  sign  of  her  presence.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate 
that  the  room  was  hers. 

Sick  with  apprehension,  he  returned  to  thei  corridor. 
There  was  a  603;  san  near  at  hand. 

"Okusan  go  away,"  said  the  boy  san.  "No  come  back, 
I  think." 

"Where  has  she  gone?"  asked  Geoffrey. 

The  boy  san,  with  the  infuriating  Japanese  grin,  shook 
his  head. 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  you,"  he  said.  "To-day  very  early 
plenty  people  come,  Tanaka  San  and  two  Japanese  girls. 
Very  plenty  talk.  Okusan  cry  tears.  All  nice  kimono 
take  away  very  quick." 

"Then  Tanaka,  where  is  he?" 

"Go  away  with  okusan,"  the  boy  grinned  again,  "I  am 
very  sorry " 

Geoffrey  slammed  the  door  in  the  face  of  his  tormentor. 
He  staggered  into  a  chair  and  collapsed,  staring  blankly. 
What  could  have  happened? 

Slowly  his  ideas  returned.  Tanaka!  He  had  seen  the 
little  beast  in  Yae's  motor  car  at  Chuzenji.  He  must 
have  come  spying  after  his  master  as  he  had  done  fifty 
times  before.  He  and  that  half-caste  devil  had  raced  him 
back  to  Tokyo,  had  got  in  ahead  of  him,  and  had  told  a 
pack  of  lies  to  Asako.  She  must  have  believed  them, 
since  she  had  gone  away.  But  where  had  she  gone  to? 
The  boy  san  had  said  "two  Japanese  girls."  She  must 


240  KIMONO 

have  gone  to  the  Fujinami  house,  and  to  her  horribly  un- 
clean cousins. 

He  must  find  her  at  once.  He  must  open  her  eyes  to 
the  truth.  He  must  bring  her  back.  He  must  take  her 
away  from  Japan — forever. 

Barrington  was  crossing  the  hall  of  the  hotel  mutter- 
ing to  himself,  seeing  nothing,  hearing  nothing,  when  he 
felt  a  hand  laid  on  his  arm.  It  was  Titine,  Asako's 
French  maid. 

"Monsieur  le  capitaine,"  she  said,  "tnadame  est  partie. 
It  is  not  my  fault,  monsieur  le  capitaine.  I  say  to  madame, 
do  not  go,  wait  for  monsieur.  But  madame  is  bewitched. 
She,  who  is  bonne  catholique,  she  say  prayers  to  the  tem- 
ples of  these  yellow  devils.  I  myself  have  seen  her  clap 
her  hands — so! — and  pray.  Her  saints  have  left  her. 
She  is  bewitched." 

Titine  was  a  Breton  peasant  girl.  She  believed  im- 
plicitly in  the  powers  of  darkness.  She  had  long  ago 
decided  that  the  gods  of  the  Japanese  and  the  korrigans 
of  her  own  country  were  intimately  related.  She  had 
served  Asako  since  before  her  marriage,  and  would  have 
remained  with  her  until  death.  She  was  desperately 
faithful.  But  she  could  not  follow  her  mistress  to  the 
Fujinami  house  and  risk  her  soul's  salvation. 

"Monsieur  le  capitaine  go  away,  and  madame  very,  very 
unhappy.  Every  night  she  cry.  Why  did  monsieur  stay 
away  so  long  time?" 

"It  was  only  a  fortnight,"  expostulated  Geoffrey. 

"For  the  first  parting  it  was  too  long,"  said  Titine 
judicially.  "Every  night  madame  cry;  and  then  she  write 
to  monsieur  and  say,  'Come  back.'  Monsieur  write  and 
say,  'Not  yet.'  Then  madame  break  her  heart  and  say, 
'It  is  because  of  some  woman  that  he  stay  away  so  long 
time!'  She  say  so  to  Tanaka;  and  Tanaka  say,  'I  go 
and  detect,  and  come  again  and  tell  madame ;'  and 
madame  say,  "Yes,  Tanaka  can  go:  I  wish  to  know  the 
truth !'  And  still  more  she  cry  and  cry.  This  morning 
very  early  Tanaka  came  back  with  Mademoiselle  Smith 
and  mademoiselle  la  cousins.  They  all  talk  a  long  time 


THE  KIMONO  241 

with  madame  in  bedroom.  But  they  send  me  away. 
Then  madame  call  me.  She  cry  and  cry.  'Titine,'  she 
say,  'I  go  away.  Monsieur  do  not  love  me  now.  I  go 
to  the  Japanese  house.  Pack  all  my  things,  Titine.'  I 
say,  'No,  madame,  never.  I  never  go  to  that  house  of 
devils.  How  can  madame  tell  the  good  confessor?  How 
can  madame  go  to  the  Holy  Mass?  Will  madame  leave 
her  husband  and  go  to  these  people  who  pray  to  stone 
beasts?  Wait  for  monsieur!'  I  say,  'What  Tanaka  say, 
it  is  lies,  all  the  time  lies.  What  Mademoiselle  Smith 
say  all  lies/  But  madame  say,  'No  come  with  me,  Titine !' 
But  I  say  again,  'Never !'  And  madame  go  away,  crying 
all  the  time :  and  sixteen  rickshaw  all  full  of  baggage. 
Oh,  monsieur  le  capitaine,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"I'm  sure,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  helpless  Geoffrey. 

"Send  me  back  to  France,  monsieur.  This  country  is 
full  of  devils,  devils  and  lies." 

He  left  her  sobbing  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel  with  a 
cluster  of  boy  sans  watching  her. 


Geoffrey  took  a  taxi  to  the  Fujinami  house.  No  one 
answered  his  ringing;  but  he  thought  that  he  could  hear 
voices  inside  the  building.  So  he  strode  in,  unannounced, 
and  with  his  boots  on  his  feet,  an  unspeakable  offence 
against  Japanese  etiquette. 

He  found  Asako  in  a  room  which  overlooked  the 
garden  where  he  had  been  received  on  former  occasions. 
Her  cousin  Sadako  was  with  her  and  Ito,  the  lawyer. 
To  his  surprise  and  disgust,  his  wife  was  dressed  in  the 
Japanese  kimono  and  obi  which  had  once  been  so  pleasing 
to  his  eyes.  Her  change  of  nationality  seemed  to  be 
already  complete. 

This  was  an  Asako  whom  he  had  never  known  before. 
Her  eyes  were  ringed  with  weeping,  and  her  face  was 
thin  and  haggard.  But  her  expression  had  a  new  look 
of  resolution.  She  was  no  longer  a  child,  a  doll.  In  the 
space  of  a  few  hours  she  had  grown  to  be  a  woman. 

They  were  all  standing.     Sadako  and  the  lawyer  had 


242  KIMONO 

formed. up  behind  the  runaway  as  though  to  give  her 
moral  support. 

"Asako,"  said  Geoffrey  sternly,  "what  does  this  mean?" 

The  presence  of  the  two  Japanese  exasperated  him. 
His  manner  was  tactless  and  unfortunate.  His  tall 
stature  in  the  dainty  room  looked  coarse  and  brutal. 
Sadako  and  Ito  were  staring  at  his  offending  boots  with 
an  expression  of  utter  horror.  Geoffrey  suddenly  re- 
membered that  he  ought  to  have  taken  them  off. 

"Oh,  damn,"  he  thought. 

"Geoffrey,"  said  his  wife,  "I  can't  come  back.  I  am 
sorry.  I  have  decided  to  stay  here." 

"Why?"  asked  Geoffrey  brusquely. 

"Because  I  know  that  you  do  not  love  me.  I  think 
you  never  loved  anything  except  my  money." 

The  hideous  irony  of  this  statement  made  poor  Geoffrey 
gasp.  He  gripped  the  wooden  framework  of  the  room 
so  as  to  steady  himself. 

"Good  God !"  he  shouted.  "Your  money !  Do  you 
know  where  it  comes  from?" 

Asako  stared  at  him,  more  and  more  bewildered. 

"Send  these  people  out  of  the  room,  and  I'll  tell  you," 
said  Geoffrey. 

"I  would  rather  they  stayed,"  his  wife  answered. 

It  had  been  arranged  beforehand  that,  if  ,  Geoffrey 
called,  Asako  was  not  to  be  left  alone  with  him.  She 
had  been  made  to  believe  that  she  was  in  danger  of 
physical  violence.  She  was  terribly  frightened. 

"Very  well,"  Geoffrey  blundered  on,  "every  penny  you 
have  is  made  out  of  prostitution,  out  of  the  sale  of  women 
to  men.  You  saw  the  Yoshiwara,  you  saw  the  poor 
women  imprisoned  there,  you  know  that  any  drunken 
beast  can  come  and  pay  his  money  down  and  say,  'I 
want  that  girl/  and  she  has  to  give  herself  up  to  be 
kissed  and  pulled  about  by  him,  even  if  she  hates  him 
and  loathes  him.  Well,  all  this  filthy  Yoshiwara  and  all 
those  poor  girls  and  all  that  dirty  money  belongs  to 
these  Fujinami  and  to  you.  That  is  why  they  are  so  rich, 
and  that  is  why  we  have  been  so  rich.  If  we  were  in 


THE  KIMONO  243 

England,  we  could  be  flogged  for  this,  and  imprisoned, 
and  serve  us  right  too.  And  all  this  money  is  bad;  and, 
if  we  keep  it,  we  are  worse  than  criminals ;  and  neither 
of  us  can  ever  be  happy,  or  look  any  one  in  the  face 
again." 

Asako  was  shaking  her  head  gently  like  an  automaton, 
understanding  not  a  word  of  all  this  outburst.  Her 
mind  was  on  one  thing  only,  her  husband's  infidelity.  His 
mind  was  on  one  thing  only,  the  shame  of  his  wife's 
money.  They  were  like  card-players  who  concentrate 
their  attention  exclusively  on  the  cards  in  their  own 
hands,  oblivious  to  what  their  partners  or  opponents  may 
hold. 

Asako  remaining  silent,  Mr.  Ito  began  to  speak.  His 
voice  seemed  more  squeaky  than  ever. 

"Captain  Barrington,"  he  said,  "I  am  very  sorry  for 
you.  But  you  see  now  true  condition  of  things.  You 
must  remember  you  are  English  gentleman.  Mrs.  Bar- 
rington wishes  not  to  return  to  you.  She  has  been  told 
that  you  make  misconduct  with  Miss  Smith  at  Kamakura, 
and  again  at  Chuzenji.  Miss  Smith  herself  says  so.  Mrs. 
Barrington  thinks  this  story  must  be  true ;  or  Miss 
Smith  do  not  tell  so  bad  story  about  herself.  We  think 
she  is  quite  right " 

"Shut  up!"  thundered  Geoffrey.  "This  is  a  matter 
for  me  and  my  wife  alone.  Please,  leave  us.  My  wife 
has  heard  one  side  of  a  story  which  is  unfair  and  untrue. 
She  must  hear  from  me  what  really  happened." 

"I  think,  some  other  day,  it  would  be  better,"  cousin 
Sadako  intervened.  "You  see,  Mrs.  Barrington  cannot 
speak  to-day.  She  is  too  unhappy." 

It  was  quite  true.  Asako  stood  like  a  dummy,  neither 
seeing  nor  hearing  apparently,  neither  assenting  nor 
contradicting.  How  powerful  is  the  influence  of  clothes ! 
If  Asako  had  been  dressed  in  her  Paris  coat  and  skirt, 
her  husband  would  have  crossed  the  few  mats  which 
separated  them,  and  would  have  carried  her  off  willy- 
nilly.  But  in  her  kimono  did  she  wholly  belong  to  him? 
Or  was  she  a  Japanese  again,  a  Fujinami?  She  seemed 


244  KIMONO 

to  have  been  transformed  by  some  enchanter's  spell;  as 
Titine  had  said,  she  was  bewitched. 

"Asako,  do  you  mean  this?"  The  big  man's  voice  was 
harsh  with  grief.  "Do  you  mean  that  I  am  to  go  with- 
out you?" 

Asako  still  showed  no  sign  of  comprehension. 

"Answer  me,  my  darling;  do  you  want  me  to  go?" 

Her  head  moved  in  assent,  and  her  lips  answered 
"Yes." 

That  whisper  made  such  a  wrench  at  her  husband's 
heart  that  his  grip  tightened  on  the  frail  shoji,  and  with 
a  nervous  spasm  he  sent  it  clattering  out  of  its  socket 
flat  upon  the  floor  of  the  room,  like  a  screen  blown  down 
by  the  wind.  Ito  dashed  forward  to  help  Geoffrey  replace 
the  damage.  When  they  turned  round  again,  the  two 
women  had  disappeared. 

"Captain  Harrington,"  said  Ito,  "I  think  you  had  better 
go  away.  You  make  bad  thing  worse." 

Geoffrey  frowned  at  the  little  creature.  He  would 
have  liked  to  have  crushed  him  underfoot  like  a  cock- 
roach. But  as  that  was  impossible,  nothing  remained  for 
him  to  do  but  to  depart,  leaving  the  track  of  his  dirty 
boots  on  the  shining  corridor.  His  last  glimpse  of  his 
cousins'  home  was  of  two  little  serving-maids  scuttering 
up  with  dusters  to  remove  the  defilement. 

Asako  had  fainted. 


As  Reggie  had  said  in  Chuzenji,  "What  actually  hap- 
pens does  not  matter:  it  is  the  thought  of  what  might 
have  happened,  which  sticks."  If  Reggie's  tolerant  and 
experienced  mind  could  not  rid  itself  of  the  picture  con- 
jured up  by  the  possibility  of  his  friend's  treachery  and 
his  mistress's  lightness,  how  could  Asako,  ignorant  and 
untried,  hope  to  escape  from  a  far  more  insistent  obses- 
sion? She  believed  that  her  husband  was  guilty.  But 
the  mere  feeling  that  it  was  possible  that  he  might  be 
guilty  would  have  been  enough  to  numb  her  love  for 
him,  at  any  rate  for  a  time.  She  had  never  known  heart- 


THE  KIMONO  245 

ache  before.  She  did  not  realise  that  it  is  a  fever  which 
runs  its  appointed  course  of  torment  and  despair,  which 
at  length  after  a  given  term  abates,  and  then  disappears 
altogether,  leaving  the  sufferer  weak  but  whole  again. 
The  second  attack  of  the  malady  finds  its  victim  familiar 
with  the  symptoms,  resigned  to  a  short  period  of  misery 
and  confident  of  recovery.  A  broken  heart  like  a  broken 
horse  is  of  great  service  to  its  owner. 

But  Asako  was  like  one  stricken  with  an  unknown 
disease.  Its  violence  appalled  her,  and  in  her  uncertainty 
she  prayed  for  death.  Moreover,  she  was  surrounded 
by  counsellors  who  traded  on  her  little  faith,  who  kept 
on  reminding  her  that  she  was  a  Japanese,  that  she  was 
among  her  father's  people  who  loved  her  and  understood 
her,  that  foreigners  were  notoriously  treacherous  to 
women,  that  they  were  blue-eyed  and  cruel-hearted,  that 
they  thought  only  of  money  and  material  things.  Let 
her  stay  in  Japan,  let  her  make  her  home  there.  There 
she  would  always  be  a  personage,  a  member  of  the  family. 
Among  those  big,  bold-voiced  foreign  women,  she  was 
overshadowed  and  out  of  place.  If  her  husband  left  her 
for  a  half-caste,  what  chance  had  she  of  keeping  him 
when  once  he  got  back  among  the  women  of  his  own 
race?  Mixed  marriages,  in  fact,  were  a  mistake,  an 
offence  against  nature.  Even  if  he  wished  to  be  faithful 
to  her,  he  could  not  really  care  for  her  as  he  could  for 
an  Englishwoman. 


As  soon  as  Geoffrey  Harrington  had  left  the  house, 
Mr.  Ito  went  in  search  of  the  head  of  the  Fujinami,  whom 
he  found  at  work  on  the  latest  literary  production  of  his 
tame  students,  The  Pinegrove  by  the  Sea-shore. 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  put  his  writing-box  aside  with 
a  leisurely  gesture,  for  a  Japanese  gentleman  of  culture 
must  never  be  in  a  hurry. 

"Indeed,  it  has  been  so  noisy,  composition  has  become 
impossible,"  he  complained;  "has  that  foreigner  come  to 
the  house?" 


246  KIMONO 

He  used  the  uncomplimentary  w.ord  "ketojin,"  which 
may  be  literally  translated  "hairy  rascal."  It  is  a  survival 
from  the  time  of  Perry's  black  ships  and  the  early  days 
of  foreign  intercourse,  when  "Expel  the  Barbarians !" 
was  a  watchword  in  the  country.  Modern  Japanese 
assure  their  foreign  friends  that  it  has  fallen  altogether 
into  disuse ;  but  such  is  not  the  case.  It  is  a  word  loaded 
with  all  the  hatred,  envy  and  contempt  against  foreigners 
of  all  nationalities,  which  still  pervade  considerable  sec- 
tions of  the  Japanese  public. 

"This  Barrington,"  answered  the  lawyer,  "is  indeed  a 
rough  fellow,  even  for  a  foreigner.  He  came  into  the 
house  with  his  boots  on,  uninvited.  He  shouted  like  a 
coolie,  and  he  broke  the  shoji.  His  behaviour  was  like 
that  of  Susa-no-O  in  the  chambers  of  the  Sun-Goddess. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  drinking  whisky-sodas." 

"A  disgusting  thing,  is  it  not?"  said  the  master.  "At 
this  time  I  am  writing  an  important  chapter  on  the  clear 
mirror  of  the  soul.  It  is  troublesome  to  be  interrupted 
by  these  quarrels  of  women  and  savages.  You  will  have 
Keiichi  and  Goro  posted  at  the  door  of  the  house.  They 
are  to  refuse  entrance  to  all  foreigners.  It  must  not  be 
allowed  to  turn  our  yashiki  into  a  battlefield." 

Mr.  Fujinami's  meditations  that  morning  had  been 
most  bitter.  His  literary  preoccupation  was  only  a  sham. 
There  was  a  tempest  in  the  political  world  of  Japan. 
The  Government  was  tottering  under  the  revelations  of 
a  corruption  in  high  places  more  blatant  than  usual.  With 
the  fall  of  the  Cabinet,  the  bribes  which  the  Fujinami 
had  lavished  to  obtain  the  licences  and  privileges  neces- 
sary to  their  trade,  would  become  waste  money.  True, 
the  Governor  of  Osaka  had  not  yet  been  replaced.  A 
Fujinami  familiar  had  been  despatched  thither  at  full 
speed  to  secure  the  new  Tobita  brothel  concessions  as  a 
fait  accompli  before  the  inevitable  change  should  take 
place. 

The  head  of  the  house  of  Fujinami,  therefore,  being 
a  monarch  in  a  small  way,  had  much  to  think  of  besides 
"the  quarrels  of  women  and  savages."  Moreover,  he 


THE  KIMONO  247 

was  not  quite  sure  of  his  ground  with  regard  to  Asako. 
To  take  a  wife  from  her  husband  against  his  will,  seems 
to  the  Japanese  mind  so  flagrantly  illegal  a  proceeding; 
and  old  Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke  had  warned  his  irre- 
ligious son  most  gravely  against  the  danger  of  tampering 
with  the  testament  of  Asako's  father,  and  of  provoking 
thereby  a  visitation  of  his  "rough  spirit." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SAYONARA    ( GOOD-BYE) 

Tomo  ni  narite  Those  ships  which  left 

Onaji  minato  wo  The  same  harbour 

Isuru  fune  no  Side  by  side 

Yuku-ye  mo  shirazu  Towards    an    unknown 

Kogi-wakari-nuru!  destination 

Have    rowed    away    from 
one  another! 

REGGIE  FORSYTH,  remaining  in  Chuzenji,  had  become  a 
prey  to  a  most  crushing  reaction.  At  the  time  of  trial, 
he  had  been  calm  and  clear-sighted.  For  a  moment 
he  had  experienced  a  sensation  of  relief  at  shaking  off 
the  shackles  which  Yae's  fascination  had  fastened  upon 
him.  He  had  been  aware  all  along  that  she  was  morally 
worthless.  He  was  glad  to  have  the  matter  incontestably 
proved.  But  his  paradise,  though  an  artificial  one,  had 
been  paradise  all  the  same.  It  had  nourished  him  with 
visions  and  music.  Now,  he  had  no  companion  except 
his  own  irrepressible  spirit  jibing  at  his  heart's  infirmity. 
He  came  to  the  reluctant  conclusion  that  he  must  take 
Yae  back  again.  But  she  must  never  come  again  to  him 
on  the  same  terms.  He  would  take  her  for  what  she 
really  was,  a  unique  and  charming  fillc-de-joie,  and  he 
knew  that  she  would  be  glad  to  return.  Without  some- 
thing, somebody,  some  woman  to  interest  him,  he  could 
not  face  another  year  in  this  barren  land. 

Then  what  about  Geoffrey,  his  friend  who  had  betrayed 
him?  No,  he  could  not  regard  him  in  such  a  tragic  light. 
He  was  angry  with  Geoffrey,  but  not  indignant.  He  was 
angry  with  him  for  being  a  blunderer,  an  elephant,  for 
being  so  easily  amenable  to  Lady  Cynthia's  intrigues, 
for  being  so  good-natured,  stupid  and  gullible.  He  argued 
that  if  Geoffrey  had  been  a  wicked  seducer,  a  bold  Don 

248 


SAYONARA  249 

Juan,  he  would  have  excused  him  and  would  have  felt 
more  sympathy  for  him.  He  would  have  thoroughly 
enjoyed  sitting  down  with  him  to  a  discussion  of  Yae's 
psychology.  But  what  did  an  oaf  like  Geoffrey  under- 
stand about  that  bundle  of  nerves  and  instincts,  partly 
primitive  and  partly  artificial,  bred  out  of  an  abnormal 
cross  between  East  and  West,  and  doomed  from  con- 
ception to  a  life  astray  between  light  and  darkness? 
He  had  been  disillusioned  about  his  old  friend,  and  he 
wished  never  to  see  him  again. 

"What  frauds  these  noble  natures  are !"  he  said  to 
himself,  "these  Old  Honests,  these  sterling  souls!  And 
as  an  excuse  he  tells  me,  'Nothing  actually  happened!' 
Disgusting ! 

To  play  with  light  loves  in  the  portal, 
To  kiss  and  embrace  and  refrain!' 

The  virtue  of  our  days  is  mostly  impotence!  Lust  and 
passion  and  love  and  marriage !  Why  do  our  dull  insular 
minds  mix  up  these  four  entirely  separate  notions  ?  And 
how  can  we  jump  with  such  goat-like  agility  from  one 
circle  of  thought  into  another  without  ever  noticing  the 
change  in  the  landscape?" 

He  strolled  over  to  the  piano  to  put  these  ideas  into 
music. 

Lady  Cynthia  had  decided  that  it  would  be  bad  for  him 
to  stop  in  Chuzenji.  Mountain  scenery  is  demoralising 
for  a  nature  so  Byronic.  He  was  forthwith  despatched 
to  Tokyo  to  represent  his  Embassy  at  a  Requiem  Mass 
to  be  celebrated  for  the  souls  of  an  Austrian  Archduke 
and  his  wife,  who  had  recently  been  assassinated  by  a 
Serbian  fanatic  somewhere  in  Bosnia.  Reggie  was 
furious  at  having  to  undertake  this  mission.  For  the 
mountains  were  soothing  to  him,  and  he  was  not  yet 
ready  for  encounters.  When  he  arrived  in  Tokyo,  he 
was  in  a  very  bad  temper. 

Asako  had  heard  from  Tanaka  that  Reggie  Forsyth 


250  KIMONO 

was  expected  at  the  Embassy.  That  useful  intelligence- 
officer  had  been  posted  by  the  Fujinami  to  keep  watch 
on  the  Embassy  compound,  and  to  report  any  movements 
of  importance;  for  the  conspirators  were  not  entirely 
at  ease  as  to  the  legality  of  abducting  the  wife  of  a 
British  subject,  and  keeping  her  against  her  husband's 
demands. 

Asako  had  received  that  day  a  pathetic  letter  from 
Geoffrey,  giving  detail  for  detail  his  account  of  his  deal- 
ings with  Yae  Smith,  begging  her  to  understand  and 
believe  him,  and  to  forgive  him  for  the  crime  which  he 
had  never  committed. 

In  spite  of  her  cousin's  incredulity,  Asako's  resolution 
was  shaken  by  this  appeal.  At  last,  now  that  she  had 
lost  her  husband,  she  was  beginning  to  realise  how  very 
much  she  loved  him.  Reggie  Forsyth  would  be  a  more 
or  less  impartial  witness. 

Late  that  evening,  in  a  hooded  rickshaw  she  crossed 
the  short  distance  which  led  to  the  Embassy.  Mr.  For- 
syth had  just  arrived. 

Mr.  Forsyth  was  very  displeased  to  hear  Mrs.  Barring- 
ton  announced.  It  was  just  the  kind  of  meeting  which 
would  exasperate  and  unnerve  him. 

Her  appearance  was  against  her.  She  wore  a  Japanese 
kimono,  unpleasantly  reminiscent  of  Yae.  Her  hair  was 
disordered  and  frantic-looking.  Her  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping. 

"Let  me  say  at  once,"  observed  Reggie,  as  he  offered 
her  a  chair,  "that  I  am  in  no  way  responsible  for  your 
husband's  shortcomings.  I  have  too  many  of  my  own." 

Asako  could  never  understand  Reggie  when  he  talked 
in  that  sarcastic  tone. 

"I  want  to  know  exactly  what  happened,"  she  begged. 
"I  have  no  one  else  who  can  tell  me." 

"Your  husband  says  that  nothing  actually  happened," 
replied  Reggie  brutally. 

The  girl  realised  that  this  statement  was  far  from 
being  the  vindication  of  Geoffrey  which  she  had  begun 
to  hope  for. 


SAYONARA  251 

"But  what  did  you  actually  see?"    she  asked. 

"I  saw  Miss  Smith  with  your  husband.  As  it  was  in 
my  house,  they  might  have  asked  my  leave  first." 

Asako  shivered. 

"But  do  you  think  Geoffrey  had  been — love-making 
to  Miss  Smith?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Reggie  wearily.  "From  what  I 
heard,  I  think  Miss  Smith  was  doing  most  of  the  love- 
making  to  Geoffrey;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  object  to  the 
process." 

Asako's  yearnings  for  proof  of  her  husband's  innocence 
were  crushed. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  pleaded. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know."  This  scene  to  Reggie  was 
becoming  positively  silly.  "Take  him  back  to  England 
as  soon  as  possible,  I  should  think." 

"But  would  he  fall  in  love  with  women  in  England?" 

"Possibly." 

"Then  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"Grin  and  bear  it.     That's  what  we  all  have  to  do." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Forsyth,"  Asako  implored,  "you  know  my 
husband  so  well.  Do  you  think  he  is  a  bad  man?" 

"No,  not  worse  than  the  rest  of  us,"  answered  Reggie, 
who  felt  quite  maddened  by  this  talk.  "He  is  a  bit  of 
a  fool,  and  a  good  deal  of  a  blunderer." 

"But  do  you  think  Geoffrey  was  to  blame  for  what 
happened?" 

"I  have  told  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Barrington,  that  your 
husband  assured  me  that  nothing  actually  happened.  I 
am  quite  sure  this  is  true,  for  your  husband  is  a  very 
honourable  man — in  details." 

"You  mean,"  said  Asako,  gulping  out  the  words,  "that 
Miss  Smith  was  not  actually  Geoffrey's — mistress;  they 
did  not — sin  together." 

Asako  did  not  know  how  intimate  were  the  relations 
between  Reggie  and  Yae.  She  did  not  understand  there- 
fore how  cruelly  her  words  lanced  him.  But,  more  than 
the  shafts  of  memory  it  was  the  imbecility  of  the  whole 
scene  which  almost  made  the  young  man  scream. 


252  KIMONO 

"Exactly,"  he  answered.  "In  the  words  of  the  Bible, 
she  lay  with  him,  but  he  knew  her  not." 

"Then,  do  you  think  I  ought  to  forgive  Geoffrey?" 

This  was  too  much.    Reggie  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"My  dear  lady,  that  is  really  a  question  for  yourself 
and  yourself  alone.  Personally,  I  do  not  at  present  feel 
like  forgiving  anybody.  Least  of  all,  can  I  forgive  fools. 
Geoffrey  Harrington  is  a  fool.  He  was  a  fool  to  marry, 
a  fool  to  marry  you,  a  fool  to  come  to  Japan  when  every- 
body warned  him  not  to,  a  fool  to  talk  to  Yae  when  every- 
body told  him  that  she  was  a  dangerous  woman.  No, 
personally,  at  present  I  cannot  forgive  Geoffrey  Barring- 
ton.  But  it  is  very  late  and  I  am  very  tired,  and  I'm  sure 
you  are,  too.  I  would  advise  you  to  go  home  to  your 
erring  husband;  and  to-morrow  morning  we  shall  all  be 
thinking  more  clearly.  As  the  French  say,  L'oreiller 
raccommode  tout." 

Asako  still  made  no  movement. 

"Well,  dear  lady,  if  you  wish  to  wait  longer,  you  will 
excuse  me,  if,  instead  of  talking  rot,  I  play  to  you.  It  is 
more  soothing  to  the  nerves." 

He  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  struck  up  the  Merry 
Widow  chorus, — 

"I'll  go  off  to  Maxim's :  I've  done  with  lovers'  dreams ; 
The  girls  will  laugh  and  greet  me,  they  will  not  trick 

and  cheat  me ; 
Lolo,  Dodo,  Joujou, 
Ooclo,  Margot,  Frou-frou, 
I'm  going  off  to  Maxim's,  and  you  may  go  to " 

The  pianist  swung  around  on  his  stool :  his  visitor  had 
gone. 

"Thank  God,"  he  sighed;  and  within  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  was  asleep. 

He  awoke  in  the  small  hours  with  that  sick  restless 
feeling  on  his  chest,  which  he  described  as  a  conviction 
of  sin. 


SAYONARA  253 

"Good  God !"  he  said  aloud ;  "what  a  cad  I've  been !" 

He  realised  that  an  unspoiled  and  gentle  creature  had 
paid  him  the  greatest  of  all  compliments  by  coming  to 
him  for  advice  in  the  extremity  of  her  soul's  misery.  He 
had  received  her  with  silly  badinage  and  cheap  cynicism. 

At  breakfast  he  learned  that  things  were  much  more 
serious  than  he  had  imagined,  that  Asako  had  actually 
left  her  husband  and  was  living  with  her  Japanese 
cousins.  What  he  had  thought  to  be  a  lover's  quarrel, 
he  now  recognised  to  be  the  shipwreck  of  two  lives.  With 
a  kindly  word  he  might  have  prevented  this  disaster. 

He  drove  straight  to  the  Fujinami  mansion,  at  the  risk 
of  being  late  for  the  Requiem  Mass.  He  found  two  evil- 
eyed  hooligans  posted  at  the  gate,  who  stopped  his  rick- 
shaw, and,  informing  him  that  none  of  the  Fujinami 
family  were  at  home,  seemed  prepared  to  resist  his  entry 
with  force. 

During  the  reception  of  the  Austrian  Embassy  which 
followed  the  Mass,  an  incident  occurred  which  altered  the 
whole  set  of  the  young  diplomat's  thoughts,  and,  most 
surprisingly,  sent  him  posting  down  to  the  Imperial  Hotel 
to  find  Geoffrey  Barrington,  as  one  who  has  discovered 
a  treasure  and  must  share  it  with  his  friend. 

The  big  Englishman  was  contemplating  a  whisky-and- 
soda  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel.  It  was  by  no  means  the 
first  of  its  series.  He  gazed  dully  at  Reggie. 

"Thought  you  were  at  Chuzenji,"  he  said  thickly. 

"I  had  to  come  down  for  the  special  service  for  the 
Archduke  Franz  Ferdinand,"  said  Reggie,  excitedly. 
"They  gave  us  a  regular  wake,  champagne  by  the  gallon ! 
Several  of  the  corps  diplomatique  became  inspired !  They 
saw  visions  and  made  prophesyings.  Von  Falkenturm, 
the  German  military  attache,  was  shouting  out,  'We've 
got  to  fight.  We're  going  to  fight !  We  don't  care  who 
we  fight !  Russia,  France,  England :  yes,  the  whole  lot  of 
them !'  The  man  was  drunk,  of  course ;  but,  after,  all, 
in  vino  veritas.  The  rest  of  the  square-heads  were  getting 
very  rattled,  and  at  last  they  succeeded  in  suppressing 


254  KIMONO 

Falkenturm.     But,  I  tell  you,  Geoffrey,  it's  coming  at 
last;  it's  really  coming!" 

"What's  coming?" 

"Why,  the  Great  War.    Thank  God,  it's  coming !" 

"Why  thank  God?" 

"Because  we've  all  become  too  artificial  and  beastly. 
We  want  exterminating,  and  to  start  afresh.  We  shall 
escape  at  last  from  women  and  drawing-rooms  and  silly 
gossip.  We  shall  become  men.  It  will  give  us  all  some- 
thing to  do  and  something  to  think  about." 

"Yes,"  echoed  Geoffrey,  "I  wish  I  could  get  something 
to  do." 

"You'll  get  it  all  right.  I  wish  I  were  a  soldier.  Are 
you  going  to  stop  in  Japan  much  longer?" 

"No — going  next  week — going  home." 

"Look  here,  I'll  put  in  my  resignation  right  away,  and 
I'll  come  along  with  you." 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Geoffrey,  "rather  not." 

In  his  excitement  Reggie  had  failed  to  observe  the 
chilliness  of  his  friend's  demeanour.  This  snub  direct 
brought  up  the  whole  chain  of  events,  which  Reggie  had 
momentarily  forgotten,  or  which  were  too  recent  as  yet 
to  have  assumed  complete  reality. 

"I'm  sorry,  Geoffrey,"  he  said,  as  he  rose  to  go. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Barrington,  ignoring  his  friend's 
hand  and  turning  aside  to  order  another  drink. 

Geoffrey  had  a  letter  in  his  pocket,  received  from  his 
wife  that  morning.  It  ran: — 

"DEAR  GEOFFREY, — I  am  very  sorry.  I  cannot  come 
back.  It  is  not  only  what  has  happened.  I  am  Japanese. 
You  are  English.  You  can  never  really  love  me.  Our 
marriage  was  a  mistake.  Everybody  says  so  even  Reggie 
Forsyth.  I  tried  my  best  to  want  to  come  back.  I  went 
to  Reggie  last  night,  and  asked  him  what  actually 
happened.  He  says  that  our  marriage  was  a  mistake,  and 
that  our  coming  to  Japan  was  a  mistake.  So  do  I.  I 
think  we  might  have  been  happy  in  England.  I  want 
you  to  divorce  me.  It  seems  to  be  very  easy  in  Japan. 


SAYONARA  255 

You  only  have  to  write  a  letter,  which  Mr.  Ito  will  give 
you.  Then  I  can  become  quite  Japanese  again,  and  Mr. 
Fujinami  can  take  me  back  into  his  family.  Also  you 
will  be  free  to  marry  an  English  girl.  But  don't  have 
anything  to  do  with  Miss  Smith.  She  is  a  very  bad 
girl.  I  shall  never  marry  anybody  else.  My  cousins  are 
very  kind  to  me.  It  is  much  better  for  me  to  stay  in 
Japan.  Titine  said  I  was  wrong  to  go  away.  Please 
give  her  fifty  pounds  from  me,  and  send  her  back  to 
France,  if  she  wants  to  go.  I  don't  think  it  is  good  for 
us  to  see  each  other.  We  only  make  each  other  unhappy. 
Tanaka  is  here,  I  do  not  like  him  now.  Good-bye ! 
Good-bye  1 

Your  loving, 

ASAKO." 

From  this  letter  Geoffrey  understood  that  Reggie  For- 
syth  also  was  against  him.  The  request  for  a  divorce 
baffled  him  entirely.  How  could  he  divorce  his  wife, 
when  he  had  nothing  against  her?  In  answer,  he  wrote 
another  frantic  appeal  to  her  to  return  to  him.  There 
was  no  answer. 

Then  he  left  Tokyo  for  Yokohama — it  is  only  eighteen 
miles  away — to  wait  there  until  his  boat  started. 

Thither  he  was  pursued  by  Ito. 

"I  am  sorry  for  you."  The  revolting  little  man  always 
began  his  discourse  now  with  this  exasperating  phrase. 
"Mrs.  Barrington  would  like  very  much  to  obtain  the 
divorce.  She  wishes  very  much  to  have  her  name  in- 
scribed on  family  register  of  Fujinami  house.  If  there 
is  no  divorce,  this  is  not  possible." 

"But,"  objected  Geoffrey,  "it  is  not  so  easy  to  get 
divorced  as  to  get  married — unfortunately." 

"In  Japan,"  said  the  lawyer,  "it  is  more  easy,  because 
we  have  different  custom." 

"Then  there  must  be  a  lot  of  divorces,"  said  Geoffrey 
grimly. 

"There  are  very  many,"  answered  the  Japanese,  "more 
than  in  any  other  country.  In  divorce  Japan  leads  the 


256  KIMONO 

world.  Even  the  States  come  second  to  our  country. 
Among  the  low-class  persons  in  Japan  there  are  even 
women  who  have  been  married  thirty-five  times,  married 
properly,  honourably  and  legally.  In  upper  society,  too, 
many  divorce,  but  not  so  many,  for  it  makes  the  family 
angry." 

"Marvellous!"  said  Geoffrey.    "How  do  you  do  it?" 

"There  is  divorce  by  law-courts,  as  in  your  country," 
said  Ito.  "The  injured  party  can  sue  the  other  party,  and 
the  court  can  grant  decree.  But  very  few  Japanese 
persons  go  to  the  court  for  divorce.  It  is  not  nice,  as 
you  say,  to  wash  dirty  shirt  before  all  people.  So  there 
is  divorce  by  custom." 

"Well?"  asked  the  Englishman. 

"Now,  as  you  know,  our  mariage  is  also  by  custom. 
There  is  no  ceremony  of  religion,  unless  parties  desire. 
Only  the  man  and  the  woman  go  to  the  Shiyakusho,  to  the 
office  of  the  city  or  the  village;  and  the  man  say,  'This 
woman  is  my  wife  ;  please,  write  her  name  on  the  register 
of  my  family.'  Then  when  he  want  to  divorce  her,  he 
goes  again  to  the  office  of  the  city  and  says,  'I  have  sent 
my  wife  away ;  please,  take  her  name  from  the  register 
of  my  family,  and  write  it  again  on  the  register  of  her 
father's  family.'  You  see,  our  custom  is  very  convenient. 
No  expense,  no  trouble." 

"Very  convenient,"  Geoffrey  agreed. 

"So,  if  Captain  Harrington  will  come  with  me  to  the 
office  of  Akasaka,  Tokyo,  and  will  give  notice  that  he 
has  sent  Mrs.  Harrington  back  to  her  family,  then  the 
divorce  is  finished.  Mrs.  Barrington  becomes  again  a 
Japanese  subject.  Her  name  becomes  Fujinami.  She  is 
again  one  of  her  family.  This  is  her  prayer  to  you." 

"And  Mrs.  Harrington's  money?"  asked  Geoffrey  sar- 
castically. "You  have  forgotten  that." 

"Oh  no,"  was  the  answer,  "we  don't  forget  the  money. 
Mr.  Fujinami  quite  understand  that  it  is  great  loss  to 
send  away  Mrs.  Barrington.  He  will  give  big  compen- 
sation as  much  as  Captain  Barrington  desires." 

To  Ito's  surprise,  his  victim  left  the  table  and  did  not 


SAYONARA  257 

return.  So  he  inquired  from  the  servants  about  Captain 
Harrington's  habits ;  and  learned  from  the  boy  sans  that 
the  big  Englishman  drank  plenty  whisky-soda ;  but  he 
did  not  talk  to  any  one  or  go  to  the  brothels.  Perhaps 
he  was  a  little  mad. 


Ito  returned  to  the  charge  next  day.  This  time 
Geoffrey  had  an  inspiration.  He  said  that  if  he  could 
be  granted  an  interview  alone  with  Asako,  he  would 
discuss  with  her  the  divorce  project,  and  would  consent, 
if  she  asked  him  personally.  After  some  demur,  the 
lawyer  agreed. 

The  last  interview  between  husband  and  wife  took 
place  in  Ito's  office,  which  Geoffrey  had  visited  once 
before  in  his  search  for  the  fortune  of  the  Fujinami.  The 
scene  of  the  rendezvous  was  well  chosen  to  repress  any 
revival  of  old  emotions.  The  varnished  furniture,  the 
sham  mahogany,  the  purple  plush  upholstery,  the  gilt 
French  clock,  the  dirty  bust  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the 
polyglot  law  library  checked  the  tender  word  and  the 
generous  impulse.  The  Japanese  have  an  instinctive 
knowledge  of  the  influence  of  inanimate  things,  and  use 
this  knowledge  with  an  unscrupulousness,  which  the 
crude  foreigner  only  realises — if  ever — after  it  is  too  late. 

Geoffrey's  wife  appeared  hand  in  hand  with  cousin 
Sadako.  There  was  nothing  English  in  her  looks.  She 
had  become  completely  Japanese  from  her  black  helmet- 
like  coiffure  to  the  little  white  feet  which  shuffled  over 
the  dusty  carpet.  There  was  no  hand-shaking.  The  two 
women  sat  down  stiffly  on  chairs  against  the  wall  remote 
from  Geoffrey,  like  two  swallows  perched  uneasily  on 
an  unsteady  wire.  Asako  held  a  fan.  There  was  com- 
plete silence. 

"I  wish  to  see  my  wife  alone,"  said  Geoffrey. 

He  spoke  to  Ito,  who  grinned  with  embarrassment  and 
looked  at  the  two  women.  Asako  shook  her  head. 

"I  made  it  quite  clear  to  you,  Mr.  Ito,"  said  Geoffrey 
angrily,  "that  this  was  my  condition.  I  understand  that 


258  KIMONO 

pressure  has  been  used  to  keep  my  wife  away  from 
me.  I  will  apply  to  my  Embassy  to  get  her  restored." 

Ito  muttered  under  his  breath.  That  was  a  contin- 
gency which  he  had  greatly  dreaded.  He  turned  to 
Sadako  Fujinami  and  spoke  to  her  in  voluble  Japanese. 
Sadako  whispered  in  her  cousin's  ear.  Then  she  rose, 
and  withdrew  with  Ito. 

Geoffrey  was  left  alone  with  Asako.  But  was  she 
really  the  same  Asako?  Geoffrey  had  often  seen  upper- 
class  Japanese  ladies  at  receptions  in  the  hotel  at  Tokyo. 
He  had  thought  how  picturesque  they  were,  how  well- 
mannered,  how  excellent  their  taste  in  dress.  But  they 
had  seemed  to  him  quite  unreal,  denizens  of  a  shadow- 
world  of  bowing,  gliding  figures. 

He  now  realised  that  his  former  wife  had  become 
entirely  a  Japanese,  a  person  absolutely  different  from 
himself,  a  visitant  from  another  sphere.  He  was  English ; 
she  was  Japanese.  They  were  divorced  already. 

The  big  man  rose  from  his  chair,  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  his  wife. 

"I'm  sorry,  little  Asako!"  he  said,  very  gently.  "You 
are  quite  right.  It  was  a  mistake.  Good-bye,  and — God 
bless  you  always !" 

With  immense  relief  and  gratitude  she  took  the  giant's 
paw  in  her  own  tiny  hand.  It  seemed  to  have  lost  its 
grip,  to  have  become  like  a  Japanese  hand. 

He  opened  the  door  for  her.  Once  again,  as  on  the 
altar-steps  of  St.  George's,  the  tall  shoulders  bent  over 
the  tiny  figure  with  a  movement  of  instinctive  protection 
and  tenderness.  He  closed  the  door  behind  her,  recrossed 
the  room  and  stared  into  the  empty  fireplace. 

After  a  time,  Ito  returned.  The  two  men  went  together 
to  the  district  office  of  the  Akasaka  Ward.  There 
Geoffrey  signed  a  declaration  in  Japanese  and  English 
to  the  effect  that  his  marriage  with  Asako  Fujinami  was 
cancelled,  and  that  she  was  free  to  return  to  her  father's 
family. 

Next  morning,  at  daylight  his  ship  left  Yokohama. 

Before  he  reached  Liverpool,  war  had  been  declared. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

FUJINAMI    ASAKO 

Okite   mifav  When  I  rise,  I  look — 

Nete  mitsu  kaya  no  When  I  lie  down,  I  look — 

Hirosa  kana.  Alas,  how  vast  is  the  mos- 

quito-curtain. 

ASAKO  HARRINGTON  was  restored  to  the  name  and  home 
of  the  Fujinami.  Her  action  had  been  the  result  of 
hereditary  instinct,  of  the  natural  current  of  circum- 
stances, and  of  the  adroit  diplomacy  of  her  relatives. 
She  had  been  hunted  and  caught  like  a  wild  animal ;  and 
she  was  soon  to  find  that  the  walls  of  her  enclosure, 
which  at  first  seemed  so  wide  that  she  perceived  them 
not,  were  closing  in  upon  her  day  by  day  as  in  a  mediaeval 
torture  chamber,  forcing  her  step  by  step  towards  the 
unfathomable  pit  of  Japanese  matrimony. 

The  Fujinami  had  not  adopted  their  foreign  cousin  out 
of  pure  altruism.  Far  from  it.  Like  Japanese  in  general, 
they  resented  the  intrusion  of  a  "tanin"  (outside  person) 
into  their  intimacy.  They  took  her  for  what  she  was 
worth  to  them. 

Since  Asako  was  now  a  member  of  the  family,  custom 
allowed  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  to  control  her  money. 
But  Mr.  Ito  warned  his  patron  that,  legally,  the 
money  was  still  hers,  and  hers  alone,  and  that  in  case  of 
her  marrying  a  second  time  it  might  again  slip  away.  It 
was  imperative,  therefore,  to  the  policy  of  the  Fujinami 
house  that  Asako  should  marry  a  Fujinami,  and  that  as 
soon  as  possible. 

A  difficulty  here  arose,  not  that  Asako  might  object  to 
her  new  husband — it  never  occurred  to  the  Fujinami  that 
this  stranger  from  Europe  might  have  opinions  quite  op- 
posed to  Japanese  conventions — but  that  there  were  very 
few  adequately  qualified  suitors.  Indeed,  in  the  direct 

259 


260  KIMONO 

line  of  succession  there  was  only  young  Mr.  Fujinami 
Takeshi,  the  youth  with  the  purple  blotches,  who  had 
distinguished  himself  by  his  wit  and  his  savoir  vivre  on 
the  night  of  the  first  family  banquet. 

True,  he  had  a  wife  already;  but  she  could  easily  be 
divorced,  as  her  family  were  nobodies.  If  he  married 
Asako,  however,  was  he  still  capable  of  breeding  healthy 
children?  Of  course,  he  might  adopt  the  children  whom 
he  already  possessed  by  his  first  wife,  but  the  elder 
boy  showed  signs  of  being  mentally  deficient,  the 
younger  was  certainly  deaf  and  dumb,  and  the  two 
others  were  girls  and  did  not  count. 

Grandfather  Fujinami  Gennosuke,  who  hated  and  de- 
spised his  grandson,  was  for  sweeping  him  and  his  brood 
out  of  the  way  altogether,  and  for  adopting  a  carefully 
selected  and  creditable  yoshi  (adopted  son)  by  marriage 
with  either  Sadako  or  Asako. 

"But  if  this  Asa  is  barren?"  said  Mrs.  Fujinami 
Shidzuye",  who  naturally  desired  that  her  daughter 
Sadako's  husband  should  be  the  heir  of  the  Fujinami. 
"That  Englishman  was  strong  and  healthy.  There 
was  living  together  for  more  than  a  year,  and  still  no 
child. 

"If  she  is  barren,  then  a  son  must  be  adopted,"  said 
the  old  gentleman. 

"To  adopt  twice  in  succession  is  unlucky,"  objected  Mr. 
Fujinami  Gentaro. 

"Then,"  said  Mrs.  Shidzuye",  "the  old  woman  of  Akabo 
shall  come  for  consultation.  She  shall  tell  if  it  is  possible 
for  her  to  have  babies. 

Akabo  was  the  up-country  village,  whence  the  first 
Fujinami  had  come  to  Tokyo  to  seek  his  fortune.  The 
Japanese  never  completely  loses  touch  with  his  ancestral 
village ;  and  for  over  a  hundred  years  the  Tokyo  Fuji- 
nami had  paid  their  annual  visit  to  the  mountains  of  the 
North  to  render  tribute  to  the  graves  of  their  forefathers. 
They  still  preserved  an  inherited  faith  in  the  "wise 
woman"  of  the  district,  who  from  time  to  time  was  sum- 


FUJINAMI  ASAKO  261 

moned  to  the  capital  to  give  her  advice.  Their  other 
medical  counselor  was  Professor  Kashio,  who  held  de- 
grees from  Munich  and  Vienna. 

During  the  first  days  of  her  self-chosen  widowhood 
Asako  was  little  better  than  a  convalescent.  She  had 
never  looked  at  sorrow  before ;  and  the  shock  of  what 
she  had  seen  had  paralyzed  her  vitality  without  as  yet 
opening  her  understanding.  Like  a  dog,  who  in  the  midst 
of  his  faithful  affection  has  been  struck  for  a  fault  of 
which  he  is  unconscious,  she  took  refuge  in  darkness, 
solitude  and  despair. 

The  Japanese,  who  are  as  a  rule  intuitively  aware  of 
others'  emotions,  recognized  her  case.  A  room  was  pre- 
pared for  her  in  a  distant  wing  of  the  straggling  house,  a 
"foreign-style"  room  in  an  upper  story  with  glass  in  the 
windows — stained  glass  too — with  white  muslin  blinds, 
a  colored  lithograph  of  Napoleon  and  a  real  bed,  recently 
purchased  on  Sadako's  pleading  that  everything  must  be 
done  to  make  life  happy  for  their  guest. 

"But  she  is  a  Japanese,"  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  had 
objected.  "It  is  not  right  that  a  Japanese  should  sleep 
upon  a  tall  bed.  She  must  learn  to  give  up  luxurious 
ways." 

Sadako  protested  that  her  cousin's  health  was  not  yet 
assured ;  and  so  discipline  was  relaxed  for  a  time. 

Asako  spent  most  of  her  days  in  the  tall  bed,  gazing 
through  the  open  doorway,  across  the  polished  wood 
veranda  like  the  toffee  veranda  of  a  confectioner's  model, 
past  the  wandering  branch  of  an  old  twisted  pine-tree 
which  crouched  by  the  side  of  the  mansion  like  a  faithful 
beast,  over  the  pigmy  landscape  of  the  garden,  to  the 
scale-like  roofs  of  the  distant  city,  and  to  the  pagoda  on 
the  opposite  hill. 

It  rested  her  to  lie  thus  and  look  at  her  country.  From 
time  to  time  Sadako  would  steal  into  the  room.  Her 
cousin  would  leave  the  invalid  in  silence,  but  she  always 
smiled;  and  she  would  bring  some  offering  with  her,  a 
dish  of  food — Asako's  favorite  dishes,  of  which  Tanaka 


262  KIMONO 

had  already  compiled  a  complete  list — or  sometimes  a 
flower.  At  the  open  door  she  would  pause  to  shuffle  off 
her  pale  blue  zori  (sandals)  ;  and  she  would  glide  across 
the  clean  rice-straw  matting  shod  in  her  snow-white  tabi 
only. 

Asako  gradually  accustomed  herself  to  the  noises  of 
the  house.  First,  there  was  the  clattering  of  the  amado, 
the  wooden  shutters  whose  removal  announced  the  be- 
ginning of  the  day,  then  the  gurgling  and  the  expectora- 
tions which  accompanied  the  family  ablutions,  then  the 
harsh  sound  of  the  men's  voices  and  their  rattling  laugh- 
ter, the  sound  of  their  geta  on  the  gravel  paths  of  the 
garden  like  the  tedious  dropping  of  heavy  rain  on  an 
iron  roof,  then  the  flicking  and  dusting  of  the  maids  as 
they  went  about  their  daily  soji  (house-cleaning),  their 
shrill  mouselike  chirps  and  their  silly  giggle ;  then  the 
afternoon  stillness  when  every  one  was  absent  or  sleep- 
ing; and  then,  the  revival  of  life  and  bustle  at  about  six 
o'clock,  when  the  clogs  were  shuffled  off  at  the  front 
door,  when  the  teacups  began  to  jingle,  and  when  sounds 
of  swishing  water  came  up  from  the  bath-house,  the 
crackle  of  the  wood-fire  under  the  bathtub,  the  smell  of 
the  burning  logs,  and  the  distant  odours  of  the  kitchen. 

Outside,  the  twilight  was  beginning  to  gather.  A  big 
black  crow  flopped  lazily  on  to  the  branch  of  the  neigh- 
bouring pine-tree.  His  harsh  croak  disturbed  Asako's 
mind  like  a  threat.  High  overhead  passed  a  flight  of 
wild  geese  in  military  formation  on  their  way  to  the  conti- 
nent of  Asia.  Lights  began  to  peep  among  the  trees. 
Behind  the  squat  pagoda  a  sky  of  raspberry  pink  closed 
the  background. 

The  twilight  is  brief  in  Japan.  The  night  is  velvety; 
and  the  moonlight  and  the  starlight  transfigure  the  dolls' 
house  architecture,  the  warped  pine-trees,  the  feathery 
bamboo  clumps  and  the  pagoda  spires. 

From  a  downstair  room  there  came  the  twang  of 
cousin  Sadako's  koto,  a  kind  of  zither  instrument,  upon 
which  she  played  interminable  melancholy  sonatas  of 
Jiquid,  detached  notes,  like  desultory  thoughts  against  a 


FUJINAMI  ASAKO  263 

background  of  silence.  There  was  no  accompaniment  to 
this  music  and  no  song  to  chime  with  it ;  for,  as  the  Jap- 
anese say,  the  accompaniment  for  koto  music  is  the  sum- 
mer night-time  and  its  heavy  fragrance,  and  the  voice 
with  which  it  harmonizes  is  the  whisper  of  the  breeze  in 
the  pine-branches. 

Long  after  Sadako  had  finished  her  practice,  came 
borne  upon  the  distance  the  still  more  melancholy  pipe 
of  a  student's  flute.  This  was  the  last  human  sound. 
[After  that  the  night  was  left  to  the  orchestra  of  the 
insects — the  grasshoppers,  the  crickets  and  the  semi 
(cicadas).  Asako  soon  was  able  to  distinguish  at  least 
ten  or  twelve  different  songs,  all  metallic  in  character, 
like  clock  springs  being  slowly  wound  up  and  then  let 
down  with  a  run.  The  night  and  the  house  vibrated  with 
these  infinitesimal  chromatics.  Sometimes  Asako 
thought  the  creatures  must  have  got  into  her  room,  and 
feared  for  entanglements  in  her  hair.  Then  she  remem- 
bered that  her  mother's  nickname  had  been  "the  Semi" 
and  that  she  had  been  so  called  because  she  was  always 
happy  and  singing  in  her  little  house  by  the  river. 

This  memory  roused  Asako  one  day  with  a  wish  to  see 
how  her  own  house  was  progressing.  This  wish  was  the 
first  positive  thought  which  had  stirred  her  mind  since 
her  husband  had  left  her ;  and  it  marked  a  stage  in  her 
convalescence. 

"If  the  house  is  ready,"  she  thought  "I  will  go  there 
soon.  The  Fujinamis  will  not  want  me  to  live  here  per- 
manently." 

This  showed  how  little  she  understood  as  yet  the  Jap- 
anese family  system,  whereby  relatives  remain  as  perma- 
nent guests  for  years  on  end. 

"Tanaka"  she  said  one  morning,  in  what  was  almost 
her  old  manner,  "I  think  I  will  have  the  motor  car  to- 
day." 

Tanaka  had  become  her  body  servant  as  in  the  old  days. 
At  first  she  had  resented  the  man's  reappearance,  which 
awakened  such  cruel  memories.  She  had  protested 
against  him  to  Sadako,  who  had  smiled  and  promised. 


264  KIMONO 

But  Tanaka  continued  his  ministrations ;  and  Asako  had 
not  the  strength  to  go  on  protesting.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  was  specially  employed  by  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro 
to  spy  on  Asako's  movements,  an  easy  task  hitherto, 
since  she  had  not  moved  from  her  room. 

"Where  is  the  motor  car,  Tanaka?"  she  asked  again. 

He  grinned,  as  Japanese  always  do  when  embarrassed. 

"Very  sorry  for  you,"  he  answered;  "motor  car  has 
gone  away." 

"Has  Captain  Barrington ?"  Asako  began  instinct- 
ively; then,  remembering  that  Geoffrey  was  now  many 
thousands  of  miles  from  Japan,  she  turned  her  face  to 
the  wall  and  began  to  cry. 

"Young  Fujinami  San,"  said  Tanaka,  "has  taken  motor 
car.  He  go  away  to  mountains  with  geisha  girl.  Very 
bad,  young  Fujinami  San,  very  roue." 

Asako  thought  that  it  was  rather  impertinent  to  bor- 
row her  own  motor  car  without  asking  permission,  even 
if  she  was  their  guest.  She  did  not  yet  understand  that 
she  and  all  her  possessions  belonged  from  henceforth  to 
her  family — to  her  male  relatives,  that  is  to  say ;  for  she 
was  only  a  woman. 

"Old  Mr.  Fujinami  San,"  Tanaka  went  on,  happy  to 
find  his  mistress,  to  whom  he  was  attached  in  a  queer 
Japanese  sort  of  way,  interested  and  responsive  at  last, 
"old  Mr.  Fujinami  San,  he  also  go  to  mountain  with  geisha 
girl,  but  different  mountain.  Japanese  people  all  very 
roue.  All  Japanese  people  like  to  go  away  in  summer 
season  with  geisha  girl.  Very  bad  custom.  Old  Mr.  Fu- 
jinami San,  not  so  very  bad,  keep  same  geisha  girl  very 
long  time.  Perhaps  Ladyship  see  one  little  girl,  very  nice 
little  girl,  come  sometimes  with  Miss  Sadako  and  bring 
meal-time  things.  That  little  girl  is  geisha  girl's  daugh- 
ter. Perhaps  old  Mr.  Fujinami  San's  daughter  also,  I 
think :  very  bastard :  I  don't  know !" 

So  he  rambled  on  in  the  fashion  of  servants  all  the 
world  over,  until  Asako  knew  all  the  ramifications  of  her 
relatives,  legitimate  and  illegitimate. 

She  gathered  that  the  men  had  all  left  Tokyo  during 


FUJINAMI  ASAKO  265 

the  hot  season,  and  that  only  the  women  were  left  in  the 
house.  This  encouraged  her  to  descend  from  her  eyrie, 
and  to  endeavour  to  take  up  her  position  in  her  family, 
which  was  beginning  to  appear  the  less  reassuring  the 
more  she  learned  about  its  history. 

The  life  of  a  Japanese  lady  of  quality  is  peculiarly  tedi- 
ous. She  is  relieved  from  the  domestic  cares  which  give 
occupation  to  her  humbler  sisters.  But  she  is  not  treated 
as  an  equal  or  as  a  companion  by  her  menfolk,  who  are 
taught  that  marriage  is  for  business  and  not  for  pleasure, 
and  consequently  that  home-life  is  a  bore.  She  is  sup- 
posed to  find  her  own  amusements,  such  as  flower-arrange- 
ment, tea-ceremony,  music,  kimono-making  and  the 
composition  of  poetry.  More  often,  this  refined  and  inno- 
cent ideal  degenerates  into  a  poor  trickle  of  an  exist- 
ence, enlivened  only  by  scrappy  magazine  reading,  ser- 
vants' gossip,  empty  chatter  about  clothes,  neighbours 
and  children,  backbiting,  envying  and  malice. 

Once  Sadako  took  her  cousin  to  a  charity  entertain- 
ment given  for  the  Red  Cross  at  the  house  of  a  rich 
nobleman.  A  hundred  or  more  ladies  were  present;  but 
stiff  civility  prevailed.  None  of  the  guests  seemed  to 
know  each  other.  There  was  no  friendly  talking.  There 
were  no  men  guests.  There  was  three  hours'  agony  of 
squatting,  a  careful  adjustment  of  expensive  kimonos, 
weak  tea  and  tasteless  cakes,  a  blank  staring  at  a  dull 
conjuring  performance,  and  deadly  silence. 

"Do  you  ever  have  dances?"  Asako  asked  her  cousin. 

"The  geisha  dance,  because  they  are  paid,"  said  Sadako 
primly.  Her  pose  was  no  longer  cordial  and  sympathetic. 
She  set  herself  up  as  mentor  to  this  young  savage,  who 
did  not  know  the  usages  of  civilized  society. 

"No,  not  like  that,"  said  the  girl  from  England;  "but 
dancing  among  yourselves  with  your  men  friends." 

"Oh,  no,  that  would  not  be  nice  at  all.  Only  tipsy  per- 
sons would  dance  like  that." 

Asako  tried,  not  very  successfully,  to  chat  in  easy 
Japanese  with  her  cousin ;  but  she  fled  from  the  intermin- 
able talking  parties  of  her  relatives,  where  she  could 


266  KIMONO 

not  understand  one  word,  except  the  innumerable  paren- 
theses— naruhodo  (indeed!)  and  so  des'ka  (is  it  so?) — 
with  which  the  conversation  was  studded.  As  the  reali- 
zation of  her  solitude  made  her  nerves  more  jumpy,  she 
began  to  imagine  that  the  women  were  forever  talking 
about  her,  criticizing  her  unfavorably  and  disposing  of 
her  future. 

The  only  man  whom  she  saw  during  the  hot  summer 
months,  besides  the  inevitable  Tanaka,  was  Mr.  Ito,  the 
lawyer.  He  could  talk  quite  good  English.  He  was  not 
so  egotistical  and  bitter  as  Sadako.  He  had  traveled  in 
America  and  Europe.  He  seemed  to  understand  the 
trouble  of  Asako's  mind,  and  would  offer  sympathetic 
advice. 

"It  is  difficult  to  go  to  school  when  we  are  no  longer 
children,"  he  would  say  sententiously.  "Asa  San  must 
be  patient.  Asa  San  must  forget.  Asa  San  must  take 
Japanese  husband.  I  think  it  is  the  only  way." 

"Oh,  no,"  the  poor  girl  shivered;  "I  wouldn't  marry 
again  for  anything." 

"But,"  Ito  went  on  relentlessly,  "it  is  hurtful  to  the 
body  when  once  it  has  custom  to  be  married.  I  think 
that  is  reason  why  so  many  widow  women  are  unfortun- 
ate and  become  mad." 

Every  day  he  would  spend  an  hour  or  so  in  conversation 
with  Asako.  She  thought  that  this  was  a  sign  of  friend- 
liness and  sympathy.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  object  at 
first  was  to  improve  his  English.  Later  on  more  ambi- 
tious projects  developed  in  his  fertile  brain. 

He  would  talk  about  New  York  and  London  in  his 
queer  stilted  way.  He  had  been  a  fireman  on  board  ship, 
a  teacher  of  jiujitsu,  a  juggler,  a  quack  dentist,  Heaven 
knows  what  else.  Driven  by  the  conscientious  inquisitive- 
ness  of  his  race,  he  had  endured  hardships,  contempt  and 
rough  treatment  with  the  smiling  patience  inculcated  in 
the  Japanese  people  by  their  education.  "We  must  chew 
our  gall,  and  bide  our  time,"  they  say,  when  the  too  pow- 
erful foreigner  insults  or  abuses  them. 

He  had  seen  the  magnificence  of  our  cities,  the  vast- 


FUJINAMI ASAKO  267 

ness  of  our  undertakings  and  had  returned  to  Japan  with 
great  relief  to  find  that  life  among  his  own  people  was 
less  strenuous  and  fierce,  that  it  was  ordered  by  circum- 
stances and  the  family  system,  that  less  was  left  to  indi- 
vidual courage  and  enterprise,  that  things  happened  more 
often  than  things  were  done.  The  impersonality  of  Japan 
was  as  restful  to  him  as  it  is  aggravating  to  a  European. 

But  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  Ito  was  an  idle  man. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  exceedingly  hard  working  and 
ambitious.  His  dream  was  to  become  a  statesman,  to 
enjoy  unlimited  patronage,  to  make  men  and  to  break 
men,  and  to  die  a  peer.  When  he  returned  to  Japan  from 
his  wanderings  with  exactly  two  shillings  in  his  pocket, 
this  was  his  programme.  Like  Cecil  Rhodes,  his  hero 
among  white  men,  he  made  a  will  distributing  millions. 
Then  he  attached  himself  to  his  rich  cousins,  the  Fujinami ; 
and  very  soon  he  became  indispensable  to  them.  Fujinami 
Gentaro,  an  indolent  man,  gave  him  more  and  more  au- 
thority over  the  family  fortune.  It  was  dirty  business, 
this  buying  of  girls  and  hiring  of  pimps,  but  it  was  im- 
mensely profitable;  and  more  and  more  of  the  profits 
found  their  way  into  Ito's  private  account.  Fujinami 
Gentaro  did  not  seem  to  care.  Takeshi,  the  son  and  heir, 
was  a  nonentity.  Ito's  intention  was  to  continue  to 
serve  his  cousins  until  he  had  amassed  a  working  capital 
of  a  hundred  thousand  pounds.  Then  he  would  go  into 
politics. 

But  the  advent  of  Asako  suggested  a  short  cut  to  his 
hopes.  If  he  maried  her  he  would  gain  immediate  control 
of  a  large  interest  in  the  Fujinami  estate.  Besides  she 
had  all  the  qualifications  for  the  wife  of  a  Cabinet  Min- 
ister, knowledge  of  foreign  languages,  ease  in  foreign 
society,  experience  of  foreign  dress  and  customs.  More- 
over, passion  was  stirring  in  his  heart,  the  swift  stormy 
passion  of  the  Japanese  male,  which,  when  thwarted, 
-drives  him  towards  murder  and  suicide. 

Like  many  Japanese,  he  had  felt  the  attractiveness 
of  foreign  women  when  he  was  traveling  abroad.  Their 
independence  stimulated  him,  their  savagery  and  their 


268  KIMONO 

masterful  ways.  Ito  had  found  in  Asako  the  physical 
beauty  of  his  own  race  together  with  the  character  and 
energy  which  had  pleased  him  so  much  in  white  women. 
Everything  seemed  to  favor  his  suit.  Asako  clearly 
seemed  to  prefer  his  company  to  that  of  other  members 
of  the  family.  He  had  a  hold  over  the  Fujinami  which 
would  compel  them  to  assent  to  anything  he  might  re- 
quire. True,  he  had  a  wife  already ;  but  she  could  easily  be 
divorced. 

Asako  tolerated  him,  faute  de  mieux.  Cousin  Sadako 
was  becoming  tired  of  their  system  of  mutual  instruc- 
tion, as  she  tired  sooner  or  later  of  everything. 

She  had  developed  a  romantic  interest  in  one  of  the 
pet  students,  whom  the  Fujinami  kept  as  an  advertise- 
ment and  a  bodyguard.  He  was  a  pale  youth  with  long 
greasy  hair,  spectacles  and  more  gold  in  his  teeth  than 
he  had  ever  placed  in  his  waist-band.  Popriety  forbade 
any  actual  conversation  with  Sadako;  but  there  was  an 
interchange  of  letters  almost  every  day,  long  subjective 
letters  describing  states  of  mind  and  high  ideals,  punc- 
tuated with  shadowy  Japanese  poems  and  with  quota- 
tions from  the  Bible,  Tolstoy,  Nietzsche,  Bergson,  Eucken, 
Oscar  Wilde  and  Samuel  Smiles. 

Sadako  told  her  cousin  that  the  young  man  was  a 
genius.and  would  one  day  be  Professor  of  Literature  at 
the  Imperial  University. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  REAL  SHINTO 

Yo  no  nako  wo  To  what  shall  I  compare 

Nani  ni  tatoyemuf  This  world? 

Asa-borake  To  the  white  wake  behind 

Kogi-yuku  fune  no  A  ship  that  has  rowed  away 

Ato  no  shira-nami.  At  dawn! 

WHEN  the  autumn  came  and  the  maple  trees  turned 
scarlet,  the  men  returned  from  their  long  summer  holi- 
days. After  that  Asako's  lot  became  heavier  than  ever. 

"What  is  this  talk  of  tall  beds  and  special  cooking?" 
said  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro.  "The  girl  is  a  Japanese. 
She  must  live  like  a  Japanese  and  be  proud  of  it." 

So  Asako  had  to  sleep  on  the  floor  alongside  her  cousin 
Sadako  in  one  of  the  downstairs  rooms.  Her  last  posses- 
sion, her  privacv,  was  taken  away  from  her.  The  soft 
mattresses  which  formed  the  native  bed,  were  not  un- 
comfortable ;  but  Asako  discarded  at  once  the  wooden 
pillow,  which  every  Japanese  woman  fits  into  the  nape 
of  her  neck,  so  as  to  prevent  her  elaborate  coiffure  be- 
coming disarranged.  As  a  result,  her  head  was  always 
untidy,  a  fact  upon  which  her  relatives  commented. 

"She  does  not  look  like  a  great  foreign  lady  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Shidzuye,  the  mistress  of  the  house.  "She  looks 
like  osandon  (a  rough  kitchen  maid)  from  a  country  inn." 

The  other  women  tittered. 

One  day  the  old  woman  of  Akabo  arived.  Her  hair 
was  quite  white  like  spun  glass,  and  her  waxen  face  was 
wrinkled  like  a  relief  map.  Her  body  was  bent  double 
like  a  lobster;  and  her  eyes  were  dim  with  cataracts. 
Cousin  Sadako  said  with  awe  that  she  was  over  a  hun- 
dred years  old. 

Asako  had  to  submit  to  the  indignity  of  allowing  this 
dessicated  hag  to  pass  her  fumbling  hands  all  over  her 
body,  pinching  her  and  prodding  her.  The  old  woman 

269 


270  KIMONO 

smelt  horirbly  of  daikon  (pickled  horse-radish).  Further- 
more the  terrified  girl  had  to  answer  a  battery  of  ques- 
tions as  to  her  personal  habits  and  her  former  marital 
relations.  In  return,  she  learned  a  number  of  curious 
facts  about  herself,  of  which  she  had  hitherto  no  inkling. 
The  lucky  coincidence  of  having  been  born  in  the  hour  of 
the  Bird  and  the  day  of  the  Bird  set  her  apart  from  the 
rest  of  womankind  as  an  exceptionally  fortunate  indi- 
vidual. But,  unhappily,  the  malignant  influence  of  the 
Dog  Year  was  against  her  nativity.  When  once  this  dis- 
affected animal  had  been  conquered  and  cast  out,  Asako's 
future  should  be  a  very  bright  one.  The  family  witch 
agreed  with  the  Fujinami  that  the  Dog  had  in  all  proba- 
bility departed  with  the  foreign  husband.  Then  the 
toothless  crone  breathed  three  times  upon  the  mouth, 
breasts  and  thighs  of  Asako;  and  when  this  opera- 
tion was  concluded,  she  stated  her  opinion  that  there 
was  no  reason,  obstetrical  or  esoteric,  why  the  ransomed 
daughter  of  the  house  of  Fujinami  should  not  become  the 
mother  of  many  children. 

But  on  the  psychical  condition  of  the  family  in  general 
she  was  far  from  reassuring.  Everything  about  the  man- 
sion, the  growth  of  the  garden,  the  flight  of  the  birds, 
the  noises  of  the  night-time,  foreboded  dire  disaster  in 
the  near  future.  The  Fujinami  were  in  the  grip  of  a 
most  alarming  inge  (chain  of  cause  and  effect).  Several 
"rough  ghosts"  were  abroad ;  and  were  almost  certain  to 
do  damage  before  their  wrath  could  be  appeased.  What 
was  the  remedy  ?  It  was  indeed  difficult  to  prescribe  for 
such  complicated  cases.  Temple  charms,  however,  were 
always  efficacious.  The  old  woman  gave  the  names  of 
some  of  the  shrines  which  specialized  in  exorcism. 

Some  days  later  the  charms  were  obtained,  strips  of 
rice  paper  with  sacred  writings  and  symbols  upon  them, 
and  were  pasted  upon  posts  and  lintels  all  over  the  house. 
This  was  done  in  Mr.  Fujinami's  absence.  When  he  re- 
turned, he  commented  most  unfavourably  on  this  act  of 
faith.  The  prayer  tickets  disfigured  his  house.  They 
looked  like  luggage  labels.  They  injured  his  reputation 


THE  REAL  SHINTO  271 

as  an  esprit  fort.     He  ordered  the  students  to  remove 
them. 

After  this  sacrilegious  act,  the  old  woman,  who  had 
lingered  on  in  the  family  mansion  for  several  weeks,  re- 
turned again  to  Akabo,  shaking  her  white  locks  and 
prophesying  dark  things  to  come. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  the  witch's  visit  did  not  im- 
prove Asako's  position.  She  was  expected  to  perform 
little  menial  services,  to  bring  in  food  at  meal-times  and 
to  serve  the  gentlemen  on  bended  knee,  to  clap  her  hands 
in  summons  to  the  servant  girls,  to  massage  Mrs.  Fu- 
jinami,  who  suffered  from  rheumatism  in  the  shoulder, 
and  to  scrub  her  back  in  the  bath. 

Her  wishes  were  usually  ignored;  and  she  was  not  en- 
couraged to  leave  the  house  and  grounds.  Sadako  no 
longer  took  her  cousin  with  her  to  the  theatre  or  to 
choose  kimono  patterns  at  the  Mitsukoshi  store.  She 
was  irritated  at  Asako's  failure  to  learn  Japanese.  It 
bored  her  to  have  to  explain  everything.  She  found  this 
girl  from  Europe  silly  and  undutiful. 

Only  at  night  they  would  chatter  as  girls  will,  even  if 
they  are  enemies;  and  it  was  then  that  Sadako  narrated 
the  history  of  her  romance  with  the  young  student. 

One  night,  Asako  awoke  to  find  that  the  bed  beside 
her  was  empty,  and  that  the  paper  shoji  was  pushed  aside. 
Nervous  and  anxious,  she  rose  and  stood  in  the  dark 
veranda  outside  the  room.  A  cold  wind  was  blowing  in 
from  some  aperture  in  the  amado.  This  was  unusual, 
for  a  Japanese  house  in  its  night  attire  is  hermetically 
sealed. 

Suddenly  Sadako  appeared  from  the  direction  of  the 
wind.  Her  hair  was  disheveled.  She  wore  a  dark  cloak 
over  her  parti-coloured  night  kimono.  By  the  dim  light 
of  the  andon  (a  rushlight  in  a  square  paper  box),  Asako 
could  see  that  the  cloak  was  spotted  with  rain. 

"I  have  been  to  benjo,"  said  Sadako  nervously. 

"You  have  been  out  in  the  rain,"  contradicted  her 
cousin.  "You  are  wet  through.  You  will  catch  cold." 


272  KIMONO 

"Sa!  Damare!  (Be  quiet!)"  whispered  Sadako,  as  she 
threw  her  cloak  aside,  "do  not  talk  so  loud.  See !"  She 
drew  from  her  breast  a  short  sword  in  a  sheath  of  sha- 
green. "If  you  speak  one  word,  I  kill  you  with  this." 

"What  have  you  done?"  asked  Asako,  trembling. 

"What  I  wished  to  do,"  was  the  sullen  answer. 

"You  have  been  with  Sekine?"  Asako  mentioned  the 
student's  name. 

Sadako  nodded  in  assent.  Then  she  began  to  cry,  hid- 
ing her  face  in  her  kimono  sleeve. 

"Do  you  love  him  ?"  Asako  could  not  help  asking. 

"Of  course,  I  love  him,"  cried  Sadako,  starting  up  from 
her  sorrow.  "You  see  me.  I  am  no  more  virgin.  He  is 
my  life  to  me.  Why  cannot  I  love  him?  Why  cannot  I 
be  free  like  men  are  free  to  love  as  they  wish?  I  am 
new  woman.  I  read  Bernard  Shaw.  I  find  one  law  for 
men  in  Japan,  and  another  law  for  women.  But  I  will 
break  that  law.  I  have  made  Sekine'  my  lover,  because 
I  am  free/" 

Asako  could  never  have  imagined  her  proud,  inhuman 
cousin  reduced  to  this  state  of  quivering  emotion.  Never 
before  had  she  seen  a  Japanese  soul  laid  bare. 

"But  you  will  marry  Sekine",  Sada  dear;  and  then  you 
will  be  happy." 

"Marry  Sekine*!"  the  girl  hissed,  "marry  a  boy  with  no 
money  and  leave  you  to  be  the  Fujinami  heiress,  when  I 
am  promised  to  the  Governor  of  Osaka,  who  will  be 
home  Minister  when  the  next  Governor  comes!" 

"Oh,  don't  do  that,"  urged  Asako,  her  English  senti- 
mentalism  flooding  back  across  her  mind.  "Don't  marry 
a  man  whom  you  don't  love.  You  say  you  are  a  new 
woman.  Marry  Sekine".  Marry  the  man  whom  you  love. 
Then  you  will  be  happy." 

"Japanese  girls  are  never  happy,"  groaned  her  cousin. 

Asako  gasped.     This  morality  confused  her. 

"But  that  would  be  a  mortal  sin,"  she  said.  "Then  you 
could  never  be  happy." 

"We  cannot  be  happy.    We  are  Fujinami,"  said  Sadako 


THE  REAL  SHINTO  273 

gravely.  "We  are  cursed.  The  old  woman  of  Akabo 
said  that  it  is  a  very  bad  curse.  I  do  not  believe  super- 
stition. But^I  believe  there  is  a  curse.  You  also,  you 
have  been  unhappy,  and  your  father  and  mother.  We 
are  cursed  because  of  the  women.  We  have  made  so 
much  money  from  poor  women.  They  are  sold  to  men, 
and  they  suffer  in  pain  and  die  so  that  we  become  rich. 
It  is  a  very  bad  ing$.  So  they  say  in  Akabo,  that  we 
Fujinami  have  a  fox  in  our  family.  It  brings  us  money; 
but  it  makes  us  unhappy.  In  Akabo,  even  poor  people 
will  not  marry  with  the  Fujinami,  because  we  have  the 
fox." 

It  is  a  popular  belief,  still  widely  held  in  Japan,  that 
certain  families  own  spirit  foxes,  a  kind  of  family  ban- 
shee who  render  them  service,  but  mark  them  with  a 
curse. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  Asako,  afraid  of  this  wild 
talk. 

"Do  you  know  why  the  Englishman  went  away?"  said 
her  cousin  brutally. 

It  was  Asako's  turn  to  cry. 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  had  gone  with  him.  He  was  so  good  to 
me,  always  so  kind  and  so  gentle!" 

"When  he  married  you,"  said  Sadako,  "he  did  not  know 
that  you  had  the  curse.  He  ought  not  to  have  come  to 
Japan  with  you.  Now  he  knows  you  have  the  curse.  So 
he  went  away.  He  was  wise." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  curse?"    asked  Asako. 

"You  do  not  know  how  the  Fujinami  have  made  so 
much  money?" 

"No,"  said  Asako.  "It  used  to  come  for  me  from  Mr. 
Ito.  He  had  shares  or  something." 

"Yes.  But  a  share  that  means  a  share  of  a  business. 
Do  you  not  know  what  is  our  business?" 

"No,"  said  Asako  again. 

"You  have  seen  the  Yoshiwara,  where  girls  are  sold  to 
men.  That  is  our  business.  Do  you  understand  now?" 

"No." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story  of  the  Fujinami. 
About  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago  our  great- 


274  KIMONO 

great-grandfather  came  to  Yedo,   as  Tokyo  was  then 
called.    He  was  a  poor  boy  from  the  country.    He  had  no 
friends.     He  became  clerk  in  a  dry  goods  store.     One 
day  a  woman,  rather  old,  asked  him:    'How  much  pay 
you  get?'    He  said,  '  No  pay,  only  food  and  clothes.'    The 
woman  said,  'Come  with  me;    I  will  give  you  food  and 
clothes  and  pay  also.'    He  went  with  her  to  the  Yoshiwara 
where  she  had  a  small  house  with  five  or  six  girls.    Every 
night  he  must  stand  in  front  of  the  house,  calling.    Then 
the  drunken  workmen,  and  the  gamblers,  and  the  bad 
samurai  would  come  and  pay  their  money.     And  they 
pay  their  money  to  him,    our    great-great-grandfather. 
When  the  girls  were  sick,  or  would  not  receive  guests, 
he  would  beat  them,  and  starve  them,  and  burn  o  kyu 
(a  medical  plant  called  moxa,   used  for  cauterization) 
on  their  backs.    One  day  he  said  to  the  woman  who  was 
mistress  of  the  house,  '  Your  girls  are  too  old.    The  rich 
friends  do  not  come  any  more.     Let  us  sell  these  girls. 
I  will  go  into  the  country  and  get  new  girls,  and  then 
you  will  marry  me  and   make  me  your  partner.'     The 
woman  said,  'If  we  have  good  luck  with  the  girls  and  make 
money,   then   I   marry   you.'     So  our  great-great-grand- 
father went  back  to  his  own  country,  to  Akabo;   and  his 
old  friends  in  the  country  were  astonished,  seeing  how 
much  money  he  had  to  spend.     He  said  'Yes.     I  have 
many  rich  friends  in  Yedo.      They  want  pretty  country 
girls  to  be  their  wives.     See,  I   pay  you  in  advance  five 
pieces  of  gold.     After  the  marriage  more  money  will  be 
given.     Let  me  take  your  prettiest  girls  to  Yedo  with 
me.     And  they  will  all  get  rich  husbands.'     They  were 
simple  country  people,  and  they  believed  him  because 
he  was  a  man  of  their  village,  of  Akabo.     He  went  back 
to  Yedo  with  about  twenty  girls,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years 
old.     He  and  the  other  clerks  of  the  Yoshiwara  first 
made  them  jorb.    From  those  twenty  girls  he  made  very 
much  money.     So  he  married  the  woman  who  kept  the 
house.     Then  he  hired  a  big  house  called  Tomonji.    'He 
furnished   it   very  richly;     and   he   would   only   receive 
guests  of  the  high-class  people.    Five  of  his  girls  became 
very   famous    oiran.      Even   their   pictures,    drawn    by 


THE   REAL  SHINTO  275 

Utamaro,  are  worth  now  hundreds  of  yen.  When  our 
great-great-grandfather  died  he  was  a  very  rich  man. 
His  son  was  the  second  Fujinami.  He  bought  more 
houses  in  the  Yoshiwara  and  more  girls.  He  was  our 
great-grandfather.  He  had  two  sons.  One  was  your 
father's  father,  who  bought  this  land  and  first  built  a 
house  here.  The  other  was  my  grandfather,  Fujinami 
Gennosuke",  who  still  lives  in  the  inkyo.  They  have 
all  made  much  money  from  girls;  but  the  curse  was 
hurting  them  all,  especially  their  wives  and  daughters." 

"And  my  father?"    asked  Asako. 

"Your  father  wrote  a  book  to  say  how  bad  a  thing  it  is 
that  money  is  made  from  men's  lust  and  the  pain  of 
women.  He  told  in  the  book  how  girls  are  tricked  to 
come  to  Tokyo,  how  their  parents  sell  them  because  they 
are  poor  or  because  there  is  famine,  how  the  girls  are 
brought  to  Tokyo  ten  and  twenty  at  a  time,  and  are  put 
to  auction  sale  in  the  Yoshiwara,  how  they  are  shut  up 
like  prisoner,  how  very  rough  men  are  sent  to  them  to 
break  their  spirit  and  to  compel  them  to  be  joro.  There 
is  a  trial  to  see  how  strong  they  are.  Then,  when  the 
spirit  is  broken,  they  are  shown  in  the  window  as 
'new  girls'  with  beautiful  kimono  and  with  wreath  of 
flowers  on  their  head.  If  they  are  lucky  they  escape  dis- 
ease for  a  few  years,  but  it  comes  soon  or  late  —  rinbyo, 
baidoku  and  raibyo.  They  are  sent  to  the  hospital  for 
treatment;  or  else  they  are  told  to  hide  the  disease  and 
to  get  more  men.  So  the  men  take  the  disease  and  bring 
it  to  their  wives  and  children,  who  have  done  no  wrong. 
But  the  girls  of  the  Yoshiwara  have  to  work  all  the  time, 
when  they  are  only  half  cured.  So  they  become  old 
and  ugly  and  rotten  very  quickly.  Then,  if  they  take 
consumption  or  some  such  thing,  they  die  and  the  master 
says,  'It  is  well.  She  was  already  too  old.  She  was 
wasting  our  money.'  And  they  are  buried  quickly  in 
the  burial  place  of  the  joro  outside  the  city  boundary, 
the  burial  place  of  the  dead  who  are  forgotten.  Or  some, 
who  are  very  strong,  live  until  their  contract  is  finished. 
Then  they  go  back  to  the  country,  and  marry  there 
and  spread  disease.  But  they  all  die  cursing  the  Fuji- 


276  KIMONO 

Harm,  who  have  made  money  out  of  their  sorrow  and 
pain.  I  think  this  garden  is  full  of  their  ghosts,  and  their 
curses  beat  upon  the  house,  like  the  wind  when  it  makes 
the  shutters  rattle!" 

"How  do  you  know  all  these  terrible  things?"  asked 
Asako. 

"It  is  written  in  your  father's  book.  I  will  read  it  to 
you.  If  you  do  not  believe,  ask  Ito  San.  He  will  tell  you 
it  is  true." 

So  for  several  evenings  Sadako  read  to  this  stranger 
Fujinami  her  own  father's  words,  the  words  of  a  fore- 
runner. 

:  Japan  is  still  a  savage  country,  wrote  Fujinami  Kat- 
sundo,  the  Japanese  are  still  barbarians.  To  compare 
the  conventional  codes,  which  they  have  mistaken  for 
civilization,  with  the  depth  and  the  height  of  Occidental 
idealism,  as  Christ  perceived  it  and  Dante  and  St.  Francis 
of  Assisi  and  Tolstoy,  is  "to  compare  the  tortoise  with 
the  moon."  Japan  is  imitating  from  the  West  its  worst 
propensities  —  hard  materialism,  vulgarity  and  money- 
worship.  The  Japanese  must  be  humble,  and  must  admit 
that  the  most  difficult  part  of  their  lesson  has  yet  to  be 
learned.  Cut  and  dried  systems  are  useless.  Prussian 
constitution,  technical  education,  military  efficiency  and 
bravado  —  such  things  are  not  progress.  Japan  must  de- 
nounce the  slavery  of  ancestor-worship,  and  escape  from 
the  rule  of  the  dead.  She  must  chase  away  the  bogeys 
of  superstition,  and  enjoy  life  as  a  lovely  thing,  and  love 
as  the  vision  of  a  life  still  more  beautiful.  She  must 
cleanse  her  land  of  all  its  filth,  and  make  it  what  it  still 
might  be  —  the  Country  of  the  Rising  Sun. 

Such  was  the  message  of  Asako's  father  in  his  book, 
The  Real  Shinto. 

"We  are  not  allowed  to  read  this  book,"  Sadako  ex- 
plained; "the  police  have  forbidden  it.  But  I  found  a 
secret  copy.  It  was  undutiful  of  your  father  to  write 
such  things.  He  went  away  from  Japan;  and  everyone 
said,  'It  is  a  good  thing  he  has  gone;  he  was  a  bad  man; 
he  shamed  his  country  and  his  family.'  ' 

There  was  much  in  the  book  which  Asako  could  not 


THE  REAL  SHINTO  277 

follow.  Her  cousin  tried  to  explain  it  to  her;  and  many 
nights  passed  thus,  the  two  girls  sitting  up  and  reading 
by  the  pale  light  of  the  andon.  It  was  like  a  renewal  of 
the  old  friendship.  Sometimes  a  low  whistle  sounded 
from  outside  the  house.  Sadako  would  lay  aside  the 
book,  would  slip  on  her  cloak  and  go  out  into  the  garden, 
where  Sekin6  was  waiting  for  her. 

When  she  was  left  to  herself  Asako  began  to  think 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Hitherto  her  thoughts  had 
been  concerned  merely  with  her  own  pleasures  and  pains, 
with  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  those  around  her,  with 
petty  events  and  trifling  projects.  Perhaps,  because  some 
of  her  father's  blood  was  alive  in  her  veins,  she  could 
understand  certain  aspects  of  his  book  more  clearly  than 
her  interpreter,  Sadako.  She  knew  now  why  Geoffrey 
would  not  touch  her  money.  It  was  filthy,  it  was  dis- 
eased, like  the  poor  women  who  had  earned  it.  Of  course, 
her  Geoffrey  preferred  poverty  to  wealth  like  that.  Could 
she  face  poverty  with  him?  Why,  she  was  poor  already, 
here  in  her  cousins'  house.  Where  was  the  luxury  which 
her  money  used  to  buy?  She  was  living  the  life  of  a 
servant  and  a  prisoner. 

What  would  be  the  end  of  it?  Surely  Geoffrey  would 
come  back  to  her,  and  take  her  away!  But  he  had  no 
money  now,  and  it  would  cost  much  money  to  travel  to 
Japan.  And  then,  this  terrible  war!  Geoffrey  was  a 
soldier.  He  would  be  sure  to  be  there,  leading  his  men. 
Supposing  he  were  killed? 

One  night  in  a  dream  she  saw  his  body  carried  past 
her,  limp  and  bleeding.  She  screamed  in  her  sleep.  Sa- 
dako awoke,  terrified. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"I  dreamed  of  Geoffrey,  my  husband.  Perhaps  he  is 
killed  in  the  war." 

"Do  not  say  that,"  said  Sadako.  "It  is  unlucky  to 
speak  of  death.  It  troubles  the  ghosts.  I  have  told  you 
this  house  is  haunted. 

Certainly  for  Asako  the  Fujinami  mansion  had  lost  its 
charm.  Even  the  beautiful  landscape  was  besieged  by 
horrible  thoughts.  Every  day  two  or  three  of  the  Yoshi- 


278  KIMONO 

wara  women  died  of  disease  and  neglect,  so  Sadako  said; 
and  therefore  every  day  the  invisible  population  of  the 
Fujinami  garden  must  be  increasing,  and  the  volume  of 
their  curses  must  be  gathering  in  intensity.  The  ghosts 
hissed  like  snakes  in  the  bamboo  grove.  They  sighed  in 
the  pine  branches.  They  nourished  the  dwarf  shrubs  with 
their  pollution.  Beneath  the  waters  of  the  lake  the 
corpses  —  women's  corpses  —  were  laid  out  in  rows.  Their 
thin  hands  shook  the  reeds.  Their  pale  faces  rose  at 
night  to  the  surface,  and  stared  at  the  moon.  The  au- 
tumn maples  smeared  the  scene  with  infected  blood;  and 
the  stone  foxes  in  front  of  the  shrine  of  Inari  sneered 
and  grinned  at  the  devil  world  which  their  foul  influence 
had  called  into  being  through  the  black  witchcraft  of 
lechery,  avarice  and  disease. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL 

Yo  no  naka  ni  In  this  world 

Ushi  no  Kurutna  no  If  there  were  no 

Nakari-seba,  Ox-cart    (i.e.   Buddhist  religion), 

Cmoi  no  iye  wo  How  should  we  escape 

Ikade  ide-mashif  From  the    (burning)    mansion  of 

our  thought? 

DURING  October,  the  whole  family  of  the  Fujinami  re- 
moved from  Tokyo  for  a  few  days  in  order  to  perform 
their  religious  duties  at  the  temple  of  Ikegami.  Even 
grandfather  Gennosuke  emerged  from  his  dower-house, 
bringing  his  wife,  O  Tsugi.  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  was 
in  charge  of  his  own  wife,  Shidzuye  San,  of  Sadako  and 
of  Asako.  Only  Fujinami  Takeshi,  the  son  and  heir,  with 
his  wife  Matsuko,  was  absent. 

There  had  been  some  further  trouble  in  the  family 
which  had  not  been  confided  to  Asako,  but  which  neces- 
sitated urgent  steps  for  the  propitiation  of  religious  influ- 
ences. The  Fujinami  were  followers  of  the  Nichiren  sect 
of  Buddhism.  Their  conspicuous  devotion  and  their  large 
gifts  to  the  priests  of  the  temple  were  held  to  be  causes 
of  their  ever-increasing  prosperity.  The  dead  Fujinami, 
down  from  that  great-great-grandfather  who  had  first 
come  to  seek  his  fortune  in  Yedo,  were  buried  at  Ike- 
gami. Here  the  priests  gave  to  each  hotoke  (Buddha  or 
dead  person)  his  new  name,  which  was  inscribed  on  small 
black  tablets,  the  ihai.  One  of  these  tablets  for  each  dead 
person  was  kept  in  the  household  shrine  at  Tokyo,  and 
one  in  the  temple  at  Ikegami. 

Asako  was  taken  to  the  October  festival,  because  her 
father  too  was  buried  in  the  temple  grounds — one  small 
bone  of  him,  that  is  to  say,  an  ikotsu  or  legacy  bone, 
posted  home  from  Paris  before  the  rest  of  his  mortality 

279 


280  KIMONO 

found  alien  sepulture  at  Pere  Lachaise.  Masses  were 
said  for  the  dead;  and  Asako  was  introduced  to  the  tab- 
let. But  she  did  not  feel  the  same  emotion  as  when  she 
first  visited  the  Fujinami  house.  Now,  she  had  heard  her 
father's  authentic  voice.  She  knew  his  scorn  for  preten- 
tiousness of  all  kinds,  for  false  conventions,  for  false 
emotions,  his  hatred  of  priestcraft,  his  condemnation  of 
the  family  wealth,  and  his  contempt  for  the  little  re- 
spectabilities of  Japanese  life. 

A  temple  in  Japan  is  not  merely  a  building;  it  is  a  site. 
These  sites  were  most  carefully  chosen  with  the  same 
genius  which  guided  our  Benedictines  and  Carthusians. 
The  site  of  Ikegami  is  a  long-abrupt  hill,  half-way  be- 
tween Tokyo  and  Yokohama.  It  is  clothed  with  crypto- 
meria  trees.  These  dark  conifers,  like  immense  cypresses, 
give  to  the  spot  that  grave,  silent,  irrevocable  atmos- 
phere, with  which  Boecklin  has  invested  his  picture  of 
the  Island  of  the  Dead.  These  majestic  trees  are  essen- 
tially a  part  of  the  temple.  They  correspond  to  the  pil- 
lars of  our  Gothic  cathedrals.  The  roof  is  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven;  and  the  actual  buildings  are  but  altars,  chan- 
tries and  monuments. 

A  steep  flight  of  steps  is  suspended  like  a  cascade  from 
the  crest  of  the  hill.  Up  and  down  these  steps,  the 
wooden  clogs  of  the  Japanese  people  patter  incessantly 
like  water-drops.  At  the  top  of  the  steps  stands  the 
towered  gateway,  painted  with  red  ochre,  which  leads  to 
the  precincts.  The  guardians  of  the  gate,  Ni-O,  the  two 
gigantic  Deva  kings,  who  have  passed  from  India  into  Jap- 
anese mythology,  are  encaged  in  the  gateway  building. 
Their  cage  and  their  persons  are  littered  with  nasty  mor- 
sels of  chewed  paper,  wherever  their  worshippers  have 
literally  spat  their  prayers  at  them. 

Within  the  enclosure  are  the  various  temple  buildings, 
the  bell-tower,  the  library,  the  washing-trough,  the  hall 
of  votive  offerings,  the  sacred  bath-house,  the  stone  lan- 
terns and  the  lodgings  for  the  pilgrims ;  also  the  two 
main  halls  for  the  temple  services,  which  are  raised  on 


THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL  281 

low  piles  and  are  linked  together  by  a  covered  bridge,  so 
that  they  look  like  twin  arks  of  safety,  floating  just  five 
feet  above  the  troubles  of  this  life.  These  buildings  are 
most  of  them  painted  red ;  and  there  is  fine  carving  on 
panels,  friezes  and  pediments,  and  also  much  tawdry 
gaudiness.  Behind  these  two  sanctuaries  is  the  mortuary 
chapel  where  repose  the  memories  of  many  of  the  great- 
est in  the  land.  Behind  this  again  are  the  priests'  dormi- 
tories, with  a  lovely  hidden  garden  hanging  on  the  slopes 
of  a  sudden  ravine ;  its  presiding  genius  is  an  old  pine- 
tree,  beneath  which  Nichiren  himself,  a  contemporary 
and  a  counterpart  of  Saint  Dominic,  used  to  meditate  on 
his  project  for  a  Universal  Church,  founded  on  the  life  of 
Buddha,  and  led  by  the  apostolate  of  Japan. 

For  the  inside  of  a  week  the  Fujinami  dwelt  in  one  of 
a  row  of  stalls,  like  loose-boxes,  within  the  temple  pre- 
cincts. The  festival  might  have  some  affinity  with  the 
Jewish  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  when  the  devout  left  their 
city  dwellings  to  live  in  booths  outside  the  walls. 

Namu  myoho  renge  kyo. 

(Adoration  to  the  Wonderful  Law  of  the  Lotus  Scrip- 
tures !) 

The  famous  formula  of  the  priests  of  the  Nichiren  sect 
was  being  repeated  over  and  over  again  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  drums ;  for  in  the  sacred  text  itself  lies  the  only 
authentic  Way  of  Salvation.  With  exemplary  insistence 
Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke  was  beating  out  the  rhythm  of 
the  prayer  with  a  wooden  clapper  on  the  mokugyo,  a 
wooden  drum,  shaped  like  a  fish's  head. 

Namu  myoho  renge  kyo. 

From  every  corner  of  the  temple  enclave  the  invoca- 
tion was  droning  like  a  threshing  machine.  Asako's  Cath- 
olic conscience,  now  awakening  from  the  spell  which 


282  KIMONO 

Japan  had  cast  upon  it,  became  uneasy  about  its  share 
in  these  pagan  rites.  In  order  to  drive  the  echo  of  the 
litany  out  of  her  ears,  she  tried  to  concentrate  her  atten- 
tion upon  watching  the  crowd. 

Namu  myoho  renge  kyo. 

Around  her  was  a  dense  multitude  of  pilgrims,  in  their 
hundreds  of  thousands,  shuffling,  chaffering  and  staring. 
Some,  like  the  Fujinami,  had  hired  temporary  lodgings, 
and  had  cooks  and  servants  in  attendance.  Some  were 
camping  in  the  open.  Others  were  merely  visiting  the 
temple  for  the  inside  of  the  day.  The  crowds  kept  on 
shifting  and  mingling  like  ants  on  an  ant-hill. 

Enjoyment,  rather  than  piety,  was  the  prevailing  spirit ; 
for  this  was  one  of  the  few  annual  holidays  of  the  indus- 
trious Tokyo  artisan. 

In  the  central  buildings,  five  feet  above  this  noisy  con- 
fluence of  people,  where  the  golden  images  of  the 
Buddhas  are  enthroned,  the  mitred  priests  with  their 
copes  of  gold-embroidered  brown  were  performing  the 
rituals  of  their  order.  To  right  and  left  of  the  high  altar, 
the  canons  squatting  at  their  red-lacquered  praying- 
desks,  were  reciting  the  sutras  in  strophe  and  antistrophe. 
Clouds  of  incense  rose. 

In  the  adjoining  building  an  earnest  young  preacher 
was  exhorting  a  congregation  of  elderly  and  somnolent 
ladies  to  eschew  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  and  to  renounce 
the  world  and  its  gauds,  marking  each  point  in  his  dis- 
course with  raps  of  his  fan.  Foxy-faced  satellites  of  the 
abbey  were  doing  a  roaring  trade  in  charms  against 
various  accidents,  and  in  sacred  scrolls  printed  with  pray- 
ers or  figures  o"  Nichiren. 

The  temple-yard  was  an  immense  fancy  fair.  The 
temple  pigeons  wheeled  disconsolately  in  the  air  or 
perched  upon  the  roofs,  unable  to  find  one  square  foot 
of  the  familiar  flagstones,  where  they  were  used  to  strut 
and  peck.  Stalls  lined  the  stone  pathways  and  choked 
the  spaces  between  the  buildings.  Merchants  were  ped- 
dling objects  of  piety,  sacred  images,  charms  and  rosa- 


THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL  283 

ries ;  and  there  were  flowers  for  the  women's  hair,  and 
toys  for  the  children,  and  cakes  and  biscuits,  biiru  (beer) 
and  ramune  (lemonade)  and  a  distressing  sickly  drink 
called  "champagne  cider"  and  all  manner  of  vanities.  In 
one  corner  of  the  square  a  theatre  was  in  full  swing,  the 
actors  making  up  in  public  on  a  balcony  above  the  crowd, 
so  as  to  whet  their  curiosity  and  attract  their  custom. 
Beyond  was  a  cinematograph,  advertised  by  lurid  paint- 
ings of  murders  and  apparitions  ;  and  farther  on  there  was 
a  circus  with  a  mangy  zoo. 

The  crowd  was  astonishingly  mixed.  There  were  pros- 
perous merchants  of  Tokyo  with  their  wives,  children, 
servants  and  apprentices.  There  were  students  with 
their  blue  and  white  spotted  cloaks,  their  kepis  with  the 
school  badge,  and  their  ungainly  stride.  There  were 
modern  young  men  in  yofuku  (European  dress),  with 
panama  hats,  swagger  canes  and  side-spring  shoes,  su- 
percilious in  attitude  and  proud  of  their  unbelief.  There 
were  troops  of  variegated  children,  dragging  at  their 
elders'  hands  or  kimonos,  or  getting  lost  among  the  legs 
of  the  multitude  like  little  leaves  in  an  eddy.  There  were 
excursion  parties  from  the  country,  with  their  kimonos 
caught  up  to  the  knees,  and  with  baked  earthen  faces 
stupidly  staring,  sporting  each  a  red  flower  or  a  coloured 
towel  for  identification  purposes.  There  were  labourers 
in  tight  trousers  and  tabard  jackets,  inscribed  with  the 
name  and  profession  of  their  employer.  There  were  geisha 
girls  on  their  best  behaviour,  in  charge  of  a  professional 
auntie,  and  recognizable  only  by  the  smart  cut  of  their 
cloaks  and  the  deep  space  between  the  collar  and  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  where  the  black  chignon  lay. 

Close  to  the  tomb  of  Nichiren  stood  a  Japanese  Salva- 
tionist, a  zealous  pimply  young  man,  wearing  the  red  and 
blue  uniform  of  General  Booth  with  kcdseigun  (World-* 
saving  Army)  in  Japanese  letters  round  his  staff  cap.  He 
stood  in  front  of  a  screen,  on  which  the  first  verse  of 
"Onward,  Christian  Soldiers,"  was  written  in  a  Japan- 
ese translation.  An  assistant  officiated  at  a  wheezy  har- 
monium. The  tune  was  vaguely  akin  to  its  Western  pro- 


284  KIMONO 

totype ;  and  the  two  evangelists  were  trying  to  induce  a 
tolerant  but  uninterested  crowd  to  join  in  the  chorus. 

Everywhere  beggars  were  crawling  over  the  compound 
in  various  states  of  filth.  Some,  however,  were  so  ghastly 
that  they  were  excluded  from  the  temple  enclosure. 
They  had  lined  up  among  the  trunks  of  the  cryptomeria 
trees,  among  the  little  grey  tombs  with  their  fading  in- 
scriptions and  the  moss-covered  statues  of  kindly 
Buddhas. 

Asako  gave  a  penny  into  the  crooked  hand  of  one  poor 
sightless  wretch. 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  cousin  Sadako;  "do  not  go  near  to 
them.  Do  not  touch  them.  They  are  lepers." 

Some  of  them  had  no  arms,  or  had  mere  stumps  ending 
abruptly  in  a  red  and  sickening  object  like  a  bone  which 
a  dog  has  been  chewing.  Some  had  no  legs,  and  were 
pulled  along  on  little  wheeled  trolleys  by  their  less  dilapi- 
dated companions  in  misfortune.  Some  had  no 
features.  Their  faces  were  mere  glabrous  disks,  from  which 
eyes  and  nose  had  completely  vanished ;  only  the  mouth  re- 
mained, a  toothless  gap  fringed  with  straggling  hairs.  Some 
had  faces  abnormally  bloated,  with  powerful  foreheads  and 
heavy  jowls,  which  gave  them  an  expression  of  stony  im- 
mobility like  Byzantine  lions.  All  were  fearfully  dirty  and 
covered  with  sores  and  lice. 

The  people  passing  by  smiled  at  their  grim  unsightliness, 
and  threvr  pennies  to  them,  for  which  they  scrambled  and 
scratched  like  beasts. 

Namu  myoho  renge  kyo. 

Asako's  relatives  spent  the  day  in  eating,  drinking  and 
gossiping  to  the  rhythm  of  the  interminable  prayer. 

It  was  a  perfect  day  of  autumn,  which  is  the  sweetest 
season  in  Japan.  A  warm  bright  sun  had  been  shining  on 
the  sumptuous  colours  of  the  waning  year,  on  the  brilliant 
reds  and  yellows  which  clothed  the  neighbouring  hills,  on 
the  broad  brown  plain  with  its  tesselated  design  of  bare 
rice-fields,  on  the  brown  villas  and  cottages  huddled  in  their 


THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL  285 

fences  of  evergreen  like  birds  in  their  nests,  on  the  red 
trunks  of  the  cryptomeria  trees,  on  the  brown  carpet  of 
matted  pine-needles,  on  the  grey  crumbling  stones  of  the  old 
graveyard,  on  the  high-pitched  temple  roofs,  and  on  the  in- 
consequential swarms  of  humanity  drifting  to  their  devo- 
tions, casting  their  pennies  into  the  great  alms-trough  in 
front  of  the  shrine,  clanging  the  brass  bell  with  a  prayer  for 
good  luck,  and  drifting  home  again  with  their  bewildered, 
happy  children. 

Asako  no  longer  felt  like  a  Japanese.  The  sight  of  her 
countrymen  in  their  drab  monotonous  thousands  sickened 
her.  The  hiss  and  cackle  of  their  incomprehensible  tongue 
beat  upon  her  brain  with  a  deadly  incessant  sound,  like  rain- 
drops to  one  who  is  impatiently  awaiting  the  return  of  fine 
weather. 

Here  at  Ikegami,  the  distant  view  of  the  sea  and  the 
Yokohama  shipping  invited  Asako  to  escape.  But  where 
could  she  escape  to?  To  England.  She  was  an  English- 
woman no  longer.  She  had  cast  her  husband  off  for  insuf- 
ficient reasons.  She  had  been  cold,  loveless,  narrow-minded 
and  silly.  She  had  acted,  as  she  now  recognised,  largely  on 
the  suggestion  of  others.  Like  a  fool  she  had  believed  what 
had  been  told.  She  had  not  trusted  her  love  for  her  husband. 
As  usual,  her  thoughts  returned  to  Geoffrey,  and  to  the  con- 
stant danger  which  threatened  him.  Lately,  she  had  started 
to  write  a  letter  to  him  several  times,  but  had  never  got 
further  than  "Dearest  Geoffrey." 

She  was  glad  when  the  irritating  day  was  over,  when  the 
rosy  sunset  clouds  showed  through  the  trunks  of  the  crypto- 
merias,  when  the  night  fell  and  the  great  stars  like  lamps 
hung  in  the  branches.  But  the  night  brought  no  silence. 
Paper  lanterns  were  lighted  round  the  temple;  and  rough 
acetylene  flares  lit  up  the  tawdry  fairings.  The  chattering, 
the  bargaining,  the  clatter  of  the  geta  became  more  terrify- 
ing even  than  in  daytime.  It  was  like  being  in  the  darkness 
in  a  cage  of  wild  beasts,  heard,  felt,  but  unseen. 

The  evening  breeze  was  cold.  In  spite  of  the  big  wooden 
fireboxes  strewn  over  their  stall,  the  Fujinami  were  shiv- 
ering. 


286  KIMONO 

"Let  us  go  for  a  walk,"  suggested  cousin  Sadako. 

The  two  girls  strolled  along  the  ridge  of  the  hill  as  far 
as  the  five-storied  pagoda.  They  passed  the  tea-house,  so 
famous  for  its  plum-blossoms  in  early  March.  It  was 
brightly  lighted.  The  paper  rectangles  of  the  shoji  were 
aglow  like  an  illuminated  honeycomb.  The  wooden  walls 
resounded  with  the  jangle  of  the  samisen,  the  high  scream- 
ing geisha  voices,  and  the  rough  laughter  of  the  guests. 
From  one  room  the  shoji  were  pushed  open ;  and  drunken 
men  could  be  seen  with  kimonos  thrown  back  from  their 
shoulders  showing  a  body  reddened  with  sake.  They  had 
taken  the  geishas'  instruments  from  them,  and  were  per- 
forming an  impromptu  song  and  dance,  while  the  girls 
clapped  their  hands  and  writhed  with  laughter.  Beyond 
the  tea-house,  the  din  of  the  festival  was  hushed.  Only 
from  the  distance  came  the  echo  of  the  song,  the  rasp  of  the 
forced  merriment,  the  clatter  of  the  get  a,  and  the  hum  of  the 
crowd. 

Starlight  revealed  the  landscape.  The  moon  was  rising 
through  a  cloud's  liquescence.  Soon  the  hundreds  of  rice- 
plots  would  catch  her  full  reflection.  The  outline  of  the 
coast  of  Tokyo  Bay  was  visible  as  far  as  Yokohama;  so 
were  the  broad  pool  of  Ikegami  and  the  lumpy  masses  of 
the  hills  inland. 

The  landscape  was  alive  with  lights,  lights  dim,  lights 
bright,  lights  stationary,  lights  in  swaying  movement  round 
each  centre  of  population.  It  looked  as  if  the  stars  had 
fallen  from  heaven,  and  were  being  shifted  and  sorted  by 
careful  gleaners.  As  each  nebula  of  white  illumination  as- 
sembled itself,  it  began  to  move  across  the  vast  plain,  drawn 
inwards  towards  Ikegami  from  every  point  of  the  compass 
as  though  by  a  magnetic  force.  These  were  the  lantern  pro- 
cessions of  pilgrims.  They  looked  like  the  souls  of  the 
righteous  rising  from  earth  to  heaven  in  a  canto  from  Dante. 

The  clusters  of  lights  started,  moved  onwards,  paused, 
re-grouped  themselves,  and  struggled  forward,  until  in  the 
narrow  street  of  the  village  under  the  hill  Asako  could  dis- 
tinguish the  shapes  of  the  lantern-bearers  and  their  strange 
antics,  and  the  sacred  palanquin,  a  kind  of  enormous 


THE  AUTUMN  FESTIVAL  287 

wooden  bee-hive,  which  was  the  centre  of  each  procession, 
borne  on  the  sturdy  shoulders  of  a  swarm  of  young  men  to 
the  beat  of  drums  and  the  inevitable  chant. 

Namu  myoho  renge  kyo. 

Slowly  the  procession  jolted  up  the  steep  stairway,  and 
came  to  rest  with  their  heavy  burdens  in  front  of  the  temple 
of  Nichiren. 

"It  is  very  silly,"  said  cousin  Sadako,  "to  be  so  supersti- 
tious, I  think." 

"Then  why  are  we  here?"  asked  Asako. 

"My  grandfather  is  very  superstitious ;  and  my  father  is 
afraid  to  say  'No'  to  him.  My  father  does  not  believe  in  any 
gods  or  Buddhas ;  but  he  says  it  does  no  harm,  and  it  may 
do  good.  All  our  family  is  gohei-katsugi  (brandishers  of 
sacred  symbols).  We  think  that  with  all  this  prayer  we  can 
turn  away  the  trouble  of  Takeshi." 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Takeshi?  Why  is  he 
not  here  ?  and  Matsuko  San  and  the  children  ?" 

"It  is  a  great  secret,"  said  the  Fujinami  cousin,  "you 
will  tell  no  one.  You  will  pretend  also  even  with  me  that  you 
do  not  know.  Takeshi  San  is  very  sick.  The  doctor  says 
that  he  is  a  leper." 

Asako  stared,  uncomprehending.  Sadako  went  on, — 

"You  saw  this  morning  those  ugly  beggars.  They  were 
all  so  terrible  to  see,  and  their  bodies  were  so  rotten.  My 
brother  is  becoming  like  that.  It  is  a  sickness.  It  cannot  be 
cured.  It  will  kill  him  very  slowly.  Perhaps  his  wife  Matsu 
and  his  children  also  have  the  sickness.  Perhaps  we  too  are 
sick.  No  one  can  tell,  not  for  many  years." 

Ugly  wings  seemed  to  cover  the  night.  The  world  beneath 
the  hill  had  become  the  Pit  of  Hell,  and  the  points  of  light 
were  devils'  spears.  Asako  trembled. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  she  asked.  "How  did  Takeshi  San 
become  sick?" 

"It  was  a  tenbatsu  (judgment  of  heaven),"  answered 
her  cousin.  "Takeshi  San  was  a  bad  man.  He  was  rude 
to  his  father,  and  he  was  cruel  to  his  wife.  He  thought 


288  KIMONO 

only  of  geisha  and  bad  women.  No  doubt,  he  became 
sick  from  touching  a  woman  :who  was  sick.  Besides, 
it  is  the  bad  inge  of  the  Fujinami  family.  Did  not  the 
old  woman  of  Akabo  say  so?  It  is  the  curse  of  the 
Yoshiwara  women.  It  will  be  our  turn  next,  yours  and 
mine." 

No  wonder  that  poor  Asako  could  not  sleep  that  night 
in  the  cramped  promiscuity  of  the  family  dead. 

Fujinami  Takeshi  had  been  sickly  for  some  time;  but 
then  his  course  of  life  could  hardly  be  called  a  healthy 
one.  On  his  return  from  his  summer  holiday,  red  patches 
had  appeared  on  the  palms  of  his  hands,  and  afterwards 
on  his  forehead.  He  had  complained  of  the  irritation 
caused  by  this  "rash."  Professor  Kashio  had  been  called 
in  to  prescribe.  A  blood  test  was  taken.  The  doctor  then 
pronounced  that  the  son  and  heir  was  suffering  from 
leprosy,  and  for  that  there  was  no  cure. 

The  disease  is  accompanied  by  irritation,  but  by  little 
actual  pain.  Constant  application  of  compresses  can  allay 
the  itching,  and  can  often  save  the  patient  from  the  more 
ghastly  ravages  of  disfigurement.  But,  slowly,  the  limbs 
lose  their  force,  the  fingers  and  toes  drop  away,  the  hair 
falls,  and  merciful  blindness  comes  to  hide  from  the  suf- 
ferer the  living  corpse  to  which  his  spirit  is  bound.  More 
merciful  yet,  the  slow  decay  attacks  the  organs  of  the 
body.  Often  consumption  intervenes.  Often  just  a  sim- 
ple cold  suffices  to  snuff  out  the  flickering  life. 

In  the  village  of  Kusatsu,  beyond  the  Karuizawa  moun- 
tains, there  is  a  natural  hot  spring,  whose  waters  are 
beneficial  for  the  alleviation  of  the  disease.  In  this  place 
there  is  a  settlement  of  well-to-do  lepers.  Thither  it  was 
decided  to  banish  poor  Takeshi.  His  wife,  Matsuko, 
naturally  was  expected  to  accompany  him,  to  nurse  him 
and  to  make  life  as  comfortable  for  him  as  she  could. 
Her  eventual  doom  was  almost  certain.  But  there  was 
no  question,  no  choice,  no  hesitation  and  no  praise.  Every 
Japanese  wife  is  obliged  to  become  an  Alcestis,  if  her 
husband's  well-being  demand  it.  The  children  were  sent 
to  the  ancestral  village  of  Akabo. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JAPANESE  COURTSHIP 

0-bune  no  With  a  rocking 

Hatjuru-tontari  no  (As)  of  great  ships 

Tayutai  ni  Riding  at  anchor 

Mono-omoi-yase-nu,  I  have  at  last  become  worn  out 

Hito  no  ko  yuye  ni.  with  love, 

Because  of  a  child  of  man. 

WHEN  the  Fujinami  returned  to  Tokyo,  the  wing  of  the 
house  in  which  the  unfortunate  son  had  lived,  had  been 
demolished.  An  ugly  scar  remained,  a  slab  of  charred 
concrete  strewn  with  ashes  and  burned  beams.  Saddest 
sight  of  all  was  the  twisted  iron  work  of  Takeshi's  for- 
eign bedstead,  once  the  symbol  of  progress  and  of  the 
haikara  spirit.  The  fire  was  supposed  to  have  been  acci- 
dental ;  but  the  ravages  had  been  carefully  limited  to  the 
offending  wing. 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro,  disgusted  at  this  unsightly 
wreckage  wished  to  rebuild  at  once.  But  the  old  grand- 
father had  objected  that  this  spot  of  misfortune  was  sit- 
uated in  the  northeast  corner  of  the  mansion,  a  quarter 
notoriously  exposed  to  the  attacks  of  oni  (evil  spirits). 
He  was  in  favor  of  total  demolishment. 

This  was  only  one  of  the  differences  of  opinion  between 
the  two  seniors  of  the  house  of  Fujinami,  which  became 
more  frequent  as  the  clouds  of  disaster  gathered  over 
the  home  in  Akasaka.  A  far  more  thorny  problem  was 
the  question  of  the  succession. 

With  the  living  death  of  Takeshi,  there  was  no  male 
heir.  Several  family  councils  were  held  in  the  presence 
of  the  two  Mr.  Fujinami  generally  in  the  lower-house,  at 
which  six  or  seven  members  of  the  collateral  branches 
were  also  present.  Grandfather  Gennosuke,  who  de- 

289 


290  KIMONO 

spised  Takeshi  as  a  waster,  would  not  listen  to  any  plea 
on  behalf  of  his  children. 

"To  a  bad  father  a  bad  child,"  he  enunciated,  his  rest- 
less jaw  masticating  more  ferociously  than  ever. 

He  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  it  was  the  curse  of 
Asako's  father  which  had  brought  this  sorrow  upon  his 
family.  Katsundo  and  Asako  were  representatives  of 
the  elder  branch.  Himself,  Gentaro  and  Takeshi  were 
mere  usurpers.  Restore  the  elder  branch  to  its  rights, 
and  the  indignant  ghost  would  cease  to  plague  them  all. 

Such  was  the  argument  of  grandfather  Gennosuke. 

Fujinami  Gentaro  naturally  supported  the  claims  of  his 
own  progeny.  If  Takeshi's  children  must  be  disinherited 
because  of  the  leprous  strain,  then,  at  least,  Sadako  re- 
mained. She  was  a  well-educated  and  serious  girl.  She 
knew  foreign  languages.  She  could  make  a  brilliant  mar- 
riage. Her  husband  would  be  adopted  as  heir.  Perhaps 
the  Governor  of  Osaka? 

The  other  members  of  the  council  shook  their  heads, 
and  breathed  deeply.  Were  there  no  Fujinami  left  of 
the  collateral  branches  ?  Why  adopt  a  tanin  (outside  per- 
son) ?  So  spoke  the  M.P.,  the  man  with  a  wen,  who  had 
an  axe  of  his  own  to  grind. 

It  was  decided  to  choose  the  son-in-law  candidate  first 
of  all;  and,  afterwards,  to  decide  which  of  the  girls  he 
was  to  marry.  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  consult  the 
fortune  tellers.  At  any  rate,  a  list  of  suitable  applicants 
would  be  prepared  for  the  next  meeting. 

"When  men  speak  of  the  future,"  said  grandfather 
Gennosuke,  "the  rats  in  the  ceiling  laugh." 

So  the  conference  broke  up. 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  had  no  sooner  returned  to  the 
academic  calm  of  his  chaste  reading  room,  than  Mr.  Ito 
appeared  on  the  threshold. 

The  oily  face  was  more  moist  than  usual,  the  buffalo- 
horn  moustache  more  truculent ;  and  though  the  autumn 
day  was  cool,  Ito  was  agitating  a  fan.  He  was  evidently 
nervous.  Before  approaching  the  sanctum,  he  had  blown 
his  nose  into  a  small  square  piece  of  soft  paper,  which 


JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  291 

is  the  Japanese  apology  for  a  handkerchief.  He  had 
looked  around  for  some  place  where  to  cast  the  offence; 
but  finding  none  along  the  trim  garden  border,  he  had 
slipped  it  into  his  wide  kimono  sleeve. 

Mr.  Fujinami  frowned.  He  was  tired  of  business  mat- 
ters, and  the  worry  of  other  people's  affairs.  He  longed 
for  peace. 

"Indeed,  the  weather  becomes  perceptibly  cooler,"  said 
Mr.  Ito,  with  a  low  prostration. 

"If  there  is  business,"  his  patron  replied  crisply,  "please 
step  up  into  the  room." 

Mr.  Ito  slipped  off  his  geta,  and  ascended  from  the 
garden  path.  When  he  had  settled  himself  in  the  cor- 
rect attitude  with  legs  crossed  and  folded,  Mr.  Fujinami 
pushed  over  towards  him  a  packet  of  cigarettes,  adding: 

"Please,  without  embarrassment,  speak  quickly  what 
you  have  to  say." 

Mr.  Ito  chose  a  cigarette,  and  slowly  pinched  together 
the  cardboard  holder,  which  formed  its  lower  half. 

"Indeed,  sensei,  it  is  a  difficult  matter,"  he  began.  "It 
is  a  matter  which  should  be  handled  by  an  intermediary. 
If  I  speak  face  to  face  like  a  foreigner  the  master  will 
excuse  my  rudeness." 

"Please,  speak  clearly." 

"I  owe  my  advancement  in  life  entirely  to  the  master. 
I  was  the  son  of  poor  parents.  I  was  an  emigrant  and  a 
vagabond  over  three  thousand  worlds.  The  master  gave 
me  a  home  and  lucrative  employment.  I  have  served  the 
master  for  many  years ;  with  my  poor  effort  the  fortunes 
of  the  family  have  perhaps  increased.  I  have  become  as 
it  were  a  son  to  the  Fujinami." 

He  paused  at  the  word  "son."  His  employer  had  caught 
his  meaning,  and  was  frowning  more  than  ever.  At  last 
he  answered: 

"To  expect  too  much  is  a  dangerous  thing.  To  choose  a 
yoshi  (adopted  son)  is  a  difficult  question.  I  myself  can- 
not decide  such  grave  matters.  There  must  be  consulta- 
tion with  the  rest  of  the  Fujinami  family.  You  yourself 


292  KIMONO 

have  suggested  that  Governor  Sugiwara  might  perhaps 
be  a  suitable  person." 

"At  that  time  the  talk  was  of  Sada  San ;  this  time  the 
talk  is  of  Asa  San." 

A  flash  of  inspiration  struck  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro, 
and  a  gush  of  relief.  By  giving  her  to  Ito,  he  might  be 
able  to  side-track  Asako,  and  leave  the  highway  to  in- 
heritance free  for  his  own  daughter.  But  Ito  had  grown 
too  powerful  to  be  altogether  trusted. 

"It  must  be  clearly  understood,"  said  the  master,  "that 
it  is  the  husband  of  our  Sada  who  will  be  the  Fujinami 
yoshi." 

Ito  bowed. 

"Thanks  to  the  master,"  he  said,  "there  is  money  in 
plenty.  There  is  no  desire  to  speak  of  such  matters.  The 
request  is  for  Asa  San  only.  Truly,  the  heart  is  speak- 
ing. That  girl  is  a  beautiful  child,  and  altogether  a 
haikara  person.  My  wife  is  old  and  barren  and  of  low 
class.  I  wish  to  have  a  wife  who  is  worthy  of  my  posi- 
tion in  the  house  of  Fujinami  San." 

The  head  of  the  family  cackled  with  sudden  laughter ; 
he  was  much  relieved. 

"Ha!  Ha!  Ito  Kun!  So  it  is  love,  is  it?  You  are  in 
love  like  a  school  student.  Well,  indeed,  love  is  a  good 
thing.  What  you  have  said  shall  be  well  considered." 

So  the  lawyer  was  dismissed. 

Accordingly,  at  the  next  family  council  Mr.  Fujinami 
put  forward  the  proposal  that  Asako  should  be  married 
forthwith  to  the  family  factotum,  who  should  be  given 
a  lump  sum  down  in  consideration  for  a  surrender  of  all 
further  claim  in  his  own  name  or  his  wife's  to  any  share 
in  the  family  capital. 

"Ito  Kun,"  he  concluded,  "is  the  brain  of  our  business. 
He  is  the  family  karo  (prime  minister).  I  think  it  would 
be  well  to  give  this  Asa  to  him." 

To  his  surprise,  the  proposal  met  with  unanimous  op- 
position. The  rest  of  the  family  envied  and  disliked  Ito, 
who  was  regarded  as  Mr.  Fujinami's  pampered  favourite. 

Grandfather  Gennosuke  was  especially  indignant. 


JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  293 

"What?"  he  exploded  in  one  of  those  fits  of  rage  com- 
mon to  old  men  in  Japan ;  "give  the  daughter  of  the  elder 
branch  to  a  butler,  to  a  man  whose  father  ran  between 
rickshaw  shafts.  If  the  spirit  of  Katsundo  has  not  heard 
this  foolish  talk  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  us.  Already 
there  is  a  bad  inge.  By  doing  such  a  thing  it  will  become 
worse  and  worse,  until  the  whole  house  of  Fujinami  is 
ruined.  This  Ito  is  a  rascal,  a  thief,  a  good-for-nothing, 
a " 

The  old  gentleman  collapsed. 

Again  the  council  separated,  still  undecided  except  for 
one  thing  that  the  claim  of  Mr.  Ito  to  the  hand  of  Asako 
was  quite  inadmissible. 

When  the  "family  prime  minister"  next  pressed  his 
master  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Fujinami  had  to  confess  that 
the  proposal  had  been  rejected. 

Then  Ito  unmasked  his  batteries,  and  his  patron  had 
to  realize  that  the  servant  was  a  servant  no  longer. 

Ito  said  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  have  Asa 
San  and  that  before  the  end  of  the  year.  He  was  in  love 
with  this  girl.  Passion  was  an  overwhelming  thing. 

"Two  things  have  ever  been  the  same 
Since  the  Age  of  the  Gods — 
The  flowing  of  water, 
And  the  way  of  Love." 

This  old  Japanese  poem  he  quoted  as  his  excuse  for 
what  would  otherwise  be  an  inexcusable  impertinence. 
The  master  was  aware  that  politics  in  Japan  were  in  an 
unsettled  state,  and  that  the  new  Cabinet  was  scarcely 
established;  that  a  storm  would  overthrow  it,  and  that 
the  Opposition  were  already  looking  about  for  a  suitable 
scandal  to  use  for  their  revenge.  He,  Ito,  held  the  evi- 
dence which  they  desired — the  full  story  of  the  Tobita 
concession,  with  the  names  and  details  of  the  enormous 
bribes  distributed  by  the  Fujinami.  If  these  things  were 
published,  the  Government  would  certainly  fall ;  also  the 
Tobita  concession  would  be  lost  and  the  whole  of  that 


294  KIMONO 

great  outlay;  also  the  Fujinami's  leading  political  friends 
would  be  discredited  and  ruined.  There  would  be  a  big 
trial,  and  exposure,  and  outcry,  and  judgment,  and  prison* 
The  master  must  excuse  his  servant  for  speaking  so 
rudely  to  his  benefactor.  But  in  love  there  are  no  scru- 
ples; and  he  must  have  Asa  San.  After  all,  after  his 
long  service,  was  his  request  so  unreasonable? 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro,  thoroughly  scared,  protested 
that  he  himself  was  in  favour  of  the  match.  He  begged 
for  time  so  as  to  be  able  to  convert  the  other  members 
of  the  family  council. 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Ito,  "if  Asa  San  were  sent  away 
from  Akasaka,  perhaps  if  she  were  living  alone,  it  would 
be  more  easy  to  manage.  What  is  absent  is  soon  forgot- 
ten. Mr.  Fujinami  Gennosuke  is  a  very  old  gentleman; 
he  would  soon  forget.  Sada  San  could  then  take  her 
proper  position  as  the  only  daughter  of  the  Fujinami. 
Was  there  not  a  small  house  by  the  river  side  at  Muko- 
jima,  which  had  been  rented  for  Asa  San?  Perhaps  she 
would  like  to  live  there — quite  alone." 

"Pehaps  Ito  Kun  would  visit  her  from  time  to  time," 
said  Mr.  Fujinami,  pleased  with  the  idea;  "she  will  be  so 
lonely ;  there  is  no  knowing." 

The  one  person  who  was  never  consulted,  and  who  had 
not  the  remotest  notion  of  what  was  going  on,  was  Asako 
herself. 

Asako  was  most  unhappy.  The  disappearance  of  Fu- 
jinami Takeshi  exasperated  the  competition  between  her- 
self and  her  cousin.  Just  as  formerly  all  Sadako's  intel- 
ligence and  charm  had  been  exerted  to  attract  her  Eng- 
lish relative  to  the  house  in  Akasaka,  so  now  she  applied 
all  her  force  to  drive  her  cousin  out  of  the  family  circle. 
For  many  weeks  now  Asako  had  been  ignored ;  but  after 
the  return  from  Ikegami  a  positive  persecution  com- 
menced. Although  the  nights  were  growing  chilly,  she 
was  given  no  extra  bedding.  Her  meals  were  no  longer 
served  to  her;  she  had  to  get  what  she  could  from  the 
kitchen.  The  servants,  imitating  their  mistress's  attitude 


JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  295 

were  deliberately  disobliging  and  rude  to  the  little  for- 
eigner. 

Sadako  and  her  mother  would  sneer  at  her  awkward- 
ness and  at  her  ignorance  of  Japanese  customs.  Her  obi 
was  tied  anyhow;  for  she  had  no  maid.  Her  hair  was 
untidy;  for  she  was  not  allowed  a  hairdresser. 

They  nicknamed  her  rashamen  (goat  face),  using  an 
ugly  slang  word  for  a  foreigner's  Japanese  mistress ;  and 
they  would  pretend  that  she  smelt  like  a  European. 

"Kusai!    Kusai!  (Stink !  Stink !)"  they  would  say. 

The  war  even  was  used  to  bait  Asako.  Every  Ger- 
man success  was  greeted  with  acclamation.  The  ex- 
ploits of  the  Emden  were  loudly  praised ;  and  the  tragedy 
of  Coronel  was  gloated  over  with  satisfaction. 

"The  Germans  will  win  because  they  are  brave,"  said 
Sadako. 

"The  English  lose  too  many  prisoners ;  Japanese  sol- 
diers are  never  taken  prisoner." 

"When  the  Japanese  general  ordered  the  attack  on 
Tsingtao,  the  English  regiment  ran  away  1" 

Cousin  Sadako  announced  her  intention  of  studying 
German. 

"Nobody  will  speak  English  now,"  she  said.  "The 
English  are  disgraced.  They  cannot  fight." 

"I  wish  Japan  would  make  war  on  the  English,"  Asako 
answered  bitterly,  "you  would  get  such  a  beating  that 
you  would  never  boast  again.  Look  at  my  husband," 
she  added  proudly;  "he  is  so  big  and  strong  and  brave. 
He  could  pick  up  two  or  three  Japanese  generals  like 
toys  and  knock  their  heads  together." 

Even  Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  joined  once  or  twice  in 
these  debates,  and  announced  sententiously : 

"Twenty  years  ago  Japan  defeated  China  and  took 
Korea.  Ten  years  ago  we  defeated  Russia  and  took  Man- 
churia. This  year  we  defeat  Germany  and  take  Tsingtao. 
In  ten  years  we  shall  defeat  America  and  take  Hawaii 
and  the  Philippines.  In  twenty  years  we  shall  defeat 
England  and  take  India  and  Australia.  Then  we  Japan- 


296  KIMONO 

ese  shall  be  the  most  powerful  nation  in  the  world.  This 
is  our  divine  mission." 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  loyalty  of  Asako's  nature, 
that,  although  very  ignorant  of  the  war,  of  its  causes 
and  its  vicissitudes,  yet  she  remained  fiercely  true  to 
England  and  the  Allies,  and  could  never  accept  the  Jap- 
anese detachment.  Above  all,  the  thought  of  her  hus- 
band's danger  haunted  her.  Waking  and  sleeping  she 
could  see  him,  sword  in  hand,  leading  his  men  to  des- 
perate hand-to-hand  struggles,  like  those  portrayed  in 
the  crude  Japanese  chromographs,  which  Sadako  showed 
her  to  play  upon  her  fears.  Poor  Asako !  How  she  hated 
Japan  now!  How  she  loathed  the  cramped,  draughty, 
uncomfortable  life !  How  she  feared  the  smiling  faces 
and  the  watchful  eyes,  from  which  it  seemed  she  never 
could  escape ! 

Christmas  was  at  hand,  the  season  of  pretty  presents 
and  good  things  to  eat.  Her  last  Christmas  she  had  spent 
with  Geoffrey  on  the  Riviera.  Lady  Everington  had  been 
there.  They  had  watched  the  pigeon  shooting  in  the 
warm  sunlight.  They  had  gone  to  the  opera  in  the  even- 
ing— Madame  Butterfly!  Asako  had  imagined  herself  in 
the  role  of  the  heroine,  so  gentle,  so  faithful,  waiting  and 
waiting  in  her  little  wooden  house  for  the  big  white  hus- 
band— who  never  came.  What  was  that  ?  She  heard  the 
guns  of  his  ship  saluting  the  harbour.  He  was  coming 
back  to  her  at  last — but  not  alone !  A  woman  was  with 
him,  a  white  woman! 

Alone,  in  her  bare  room — her  only  companion  a  flaky 
yellow  chrysanthemum  nodding  in  the  draught — Asako 
sobbed  and  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  were  breaking. 
Somebody  tapped  at  the  sliding  shutter.  Asako  could 
not  answer.  The  shoji  was  pushed  open,  and  Tanaka 
entered. 

Asako  was  glad  to  see  him.  Alone  of  the  household 
Tanaka  was  still  deferential  in  his  attitude  towards  his 
late  mistress.  He  was  always  ready  to  talk  about  the 
old  times  which  gave  her  a  bitter  pleasure. 

"If  Ladyship  is   so  sad,"  he  began,  as  he  had  been 


JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  297 

coached  in  his  part  beforehand  by  the  Fujinami,  "why 
Ladyship  stay  in  this  house?  Change  house,  change 
trouble,  we  say." 

"But  where  can  I  go?"  Asako  asked  helplessly. 

"Ladyship  has  pretty  house  by  river  brink,"  suggested 
Tanaka.  "Ladyship  can  stay  two  month,  three  month. 
Then  the  springtime  come  and  Ladyship  feel  quite  happy 
again.  Even  I,  in  the  winter  season,  I  find  the  mind  very 
distress.  It  is  often  so." 

To  be  alone,  to  be  free  from  the  daily  insults  and  cru- 
elty; this  in  itself  would  be  happiness  to  Asako. 

"But  will  Mr.  Fujinami  allow  me  to  go?"  she  asked, 
timorously. 

"Ladyship  must  be  brave,"  said  the  counselor.  "Lady- 
ship is  not  prisoner.  Ladyship  must  say,  I  go.  But  per- 
haps I  can  arrange  matter  for  Ladyship." 

"Oh,  Tanaka,  please,  please  do.    I'm  so  unhappy  here." 

"I  will  hire  cook  and  maid  for  Ladyship.  I  myself  will 
be  seneschal !" 

Mr.  Fujinami  Gentaro  and  his  family  were  delighted  to 
hear  that  their  plan  was  working  so  smoothly,  and  that 
they  could  so  easily  get  rid  of  their  embarrassing  cousin. 
The  "seneschal"  was  instructed  at  once  to  see  about  ar- 
rangements for  the  house,  which  had  not  been  lived  in 
since  its  new  tenancy. 

Next  evening,  when  Asako  had  spread  the  two  quilts 
on  the  golden  matting,  when  she  had  lit  the  rushlight  in 
the  square  andon,  when  the  two  girls  were  lying  side  by 
side  under  the  heavy  wadded  bedclothes,  Sadako  said 
to  her  cousin : 

"Asa  Chan,  I  do  not  think  you  like  me  now  as  much 
as  you  used  to  like  me." 

"I  always  like  people  when  I  have  once  liked  them," 
said  Asako ;  "but  everything  is  different  now." 

"I  see,  your  heart  changes  quickly,"  said  her  cousin 
bitterly. 

"No,  I  have  tried  to  change,  but  I  cannot  change.  I 
have  tried  to  become  Japanese,  but  I  cannot  even  learn 
the  Japanese  language.  I  do  not  like  the  Japanese  way 


298  KIMONO 

of  living.    In  France  and  in  England  I  was  always  happy. 
I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  happy  again." 

"You  ought  to  be  more  grateful,"  said  Sadako  severely. 
"We  have  saved  you  from  your  husband,  who  was  cruel 

and  deceitful " 

"No,  I  don't  believe  that  now.  My  husband  and  I 
loved  each  other  always.  You  people  came  between  us 
with  wicked  lies  and  separated  us." 

"Anyhow,  you  have  made  the  choice.  You  have  chosen 
to  be  Japanese.  You  can  never  be  English  again." 

The  Fujinami  had  hypnotized  Asako  with  this  phrase, 
as  a  hen  can  be  hypnotized  with  a  chalk  line.  Day  after 
day  it  was  dinned  into  her  ears,  cutting  off  all  hope  of 
escape  from  the  country  or  of  appeal  to  her  English 
friends. 

"You  had  better  marry  a  Japanese,"  said  Sadako.  "or 
you  will  become  old  maid.  Why  not  marry  Ito  San?  He 
says  he  likes  you.  He  is  a  clever  man.  He  has  plenty 
of  money.  He  is  used  to  foreign  ways." 

"Marry  Mr.  Ito!"  Asako  exclaimed,  aghast;  "but  he 
has  a  wife  already." 

"They  will  divorce.  It  is  no  trouble.  There  are  not 
even  children." 

"I  would  rather  die  than  marry  any  Japanese,"  said 
Asako  with  conviction. 

Sadako  Fujinami  turned  her  back  and  pretended  to 
sleep;  but  long  through  the  dark  cold  night  Asako  could 
feel  her  turning  restlessly  to  and  fro. 

Some  time  about  midnight  Asako  heard  her  name 
called : 

"Asa  Chan,  are  you  awake?" 

"Yes;  is  anything  the  matter?" 

"Asa  Chan,  in  your  house  by  the  river  you  will  be 
lonely.  You  will  not  be  afraid?" 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  be  lonely,"  Asako  answered ;  "I  am 
afraid  of  people." 

"Look !"  said  her  cousin ;  "I  give  you  this.* 

She  drew   from  the  bosom  of  her  kimono  the  short 


JAPANESE  COURTSHIP  299 

sword  in  its  sheath  of  shagreen,  which  Asako  had  seen 
once  or  twice  before. 

"It  is  very  old,"  she  continued;  "it  belonged  to  my 
mother's  people.  They  were  samurai  of  the  Sendai  clan. 
In  old  Japan  every  noble  girl  carried  such  a  short  sword ; 
for  she  said,  'Better  death  than  dishonour.'  When  the 
time  came  to  die  she  would  strike — here,  in  the  throat, 
not  too  hard,  but  pushing  strongly.  But  first  she  would 
tie  her  feet  together  with  the  obidome,  the  silk  string 
which  you  have  to  hold  your  obi  straight.  That  was  in 
case  the  legs  open  too  much ;  she  must  not  die  in  immod- 
est attitude.  So  when  General  Nogi  did  harakiri  at  Em- 
peror Meiji's  funeral,  his  wife,  Countess  Nogi,  killed  her- 
self also  with  such  a  sword.  I  give  you  my  sword  be- 
cause in  the  house  by  the  river  you  will  be  lonely — and 
things  might  happen.  I  can  never  use  the  sword  myself 
now.  It  was  the  sword  of  my  ancestors.  I  am  not  pure 
now.  I  cannot  use  the  sword.  If  I  kill  myself  I  throw 
myself  into  the  river  like  a  common  geisha.  I  think  it 
is  best  you  marry  Ito.  In  Japan  it  is  bad  to  have  a  hus- 
band ;  but  to  have  no  husband,  it  is  worse." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ALONE  IN   TOKYO 

Kuraki  yori  Out  of  the  dark 

Kuraki  michi  ni  za  Into  a  dark  path 
lri-nu-beki:  I  now  must  enter: 

Haruka  ni  terase,  Shine  (on  me)   from  afar, 

Yama  no  ha  no  tsuki!  Moon  of  the  mountain  fringe ! 

SOME  days  before  Christmas  Asako  had  moved  into  her 
own  little  home. 

To  be  free,  to  have  escaped  from  the  watchful  eyes  and 
the  whispering  tongues  to  be  at  liberty  to  walk  about  the 
streets  and  to  visit  the  shops,  as  an  independent  lady  of 
Japan — these  were  such  unfamiliar  joys  to  her  that  for  a 
time  she  forgot  how  unhappy  she  really  was,  and  how  she 
longed  for  Geoffrey's  company  as  of  old.  Only  in  the 
evenings  a  sense  of  insecurity  rose  with  the  river  mists, 
and  a  memory  of  Sadako's  warning  shivered  through 
the  lonely  room  with  the  bitter  cold  of  the  winter  air. 
It  was  then  that  Asako  felt  for  the  little  dagger  resting 
hidden  in  her  bosom  just  as  Sadako  had  shown  her  how 
to  "wear  it.  It  was  then  that  she  did  not  like  to  be  alone, 
and  that  she  summoned  Tanaka  to  keep  her  company  and 
to  while  away  the  time  with  his  quaint  loquacity. 

Considering  that  he  had  been  largely  instrumental  in 
breaking  up  her  happy  life,  considering  that  every  day 
he  stole  from  her  and  lied  to  her,  it  was  wonderful  that 
his  mistress  was  still  so  attached  to  him,  that,  in  fact, 
she  regarded  him  as  her  only  friend.  He  was  like  a  bad 
habit  or  an  old  disease,  which  we  almost  come  to  cherish 
since  we  cannot  be  delivered  from  it. 

But,  when  Tanaka  protested  his  devotion,  did  he  mean 
what  he  said?  There  is  a  bedrock  of  loyalty  in  the  Jap- 
anese nature.  Half-way  down  the  road  to  shame,  it  will 
halt  of  a  sudden,  and  bungle  back  its  way  to  honour.  Then 

300 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  301 

there  is  the  love  of  the  beau  geste  which  is  an  even  stronger 
motive  very  often  than  the  love  of  right-doing  for  its 
own  sake.  The  favorite  character  of  the  Japanese  drama 
is  the  otokodate,  the  chivalrous  champion  of  the  common 
people  who  rescues  beauty  in  distress  from  the  lawless, 
bullying,  two-sworded  men.  It  tickled  Tanaka's  remark- 
able vanity  to  regard  himself  as  the  protector  of  this 
lonely  and  unfortunate  lady.  It  might  be  said  of  him  as 
of  Lancelot,  that — 

"His  honour  rooted  in  dishonour  stood, 
And  faith  unfaithful  kept  him  falsely  true." 

Asako  was  glad  on  the  whole  that  she  had  no  visitors. 
The  Fujinami  were  busy  with  their  New  Year  prepara- 
tions. Christmas  Day  passed  by,  unheeded  by  the  Japan- 
ese, though  the  personality  and  appearance  of  Santa 
Claus  are  not  unknown  to  them.  He  stands  in  the  big 
shop  windows  in  Tokyo  as  in  London,  with  his  red  cloak, 
his  long  white  beard  and  his  sack  full  of  toys.  Some- 
times he  is  to  be  seen  chatting  with  Buddhist  deities, 
•with  the  hammer-bearing  Daikoku,  with  Ebisu  the  fisher- 
man, with  fat  naked  Hotei,  and  with  Benten,  the  fair 
but  frail.  In  fact,  with  the  American  Billiken,  Santa 
Claus  may  be  considered  as  the  latest  addition  to  the 
tolerant  theocracy  of  Japan. 

Asako  attended  High  Mass  at  the  Catholic  Cathedral 
in  Tsukiji,  the  old  foreign  settlement.  The  music  was 
crude ;  and  there  was  a  long  sermon  in  Japanese.  The 
magnificent  bearded  bishop,  who  officiated,  was  flanked 
by  two  native  priests.  But  the  familiar  sounds  and  move- 
ments of  the  office  soothed  her,  and  the  fragrance  of  the 
incense.  The  centre  of  the  aisle  was  covered  with  straw 
mats  where  the  Japanese  congregation  was  squatting. 
Chairs  for  the  foreigners  were  placed  in  the  side  aisles. 
These  were  mostly  members  of  the  various  Embassy  and 
Legation  staffs.  For  a  moment  Asako  feared  recognition. 
Then  she  remembered  how  entirely  Japanese  she  had  be- 
come— in  appearance. 


302  KIMONO 

Mr.  Ito  called  during  the  afternoon  to  wish  a  Merry 
Christmas.  Asako  regaled  him  with  thin  green  tea  and 
little  square  cakes  of  ground  rice,  filled  with  a  kind  of 
bean  paste  called  "an."  She  kept  Tanaka  in  the  room  all 
the  time;  for  Sadako's  remarks  about  marriage  with  Ito 
had  alarmed  her.  He  was  most  agreeable,  however,  and 
most  courteous.  He  amused  Asako  with  stories  of  his 
experiences  abroad.  He  admired  the  pretty  little  house 
and  its  position  on  the  river  bank;  and,  when  he  bowed 
his  thanks  for  Asako's  hospitality,  he  expressed  a  wish 
that  he  might  come  again  many  times  in  future. 

"I  am  afraid  of  him,"  Asako  had  confided  to  Tanaka, 
when  the  guest  had  departed,  "because  Sada  San  said 
that  he  wants  to  divorce  his  wife  and  marry  me.  You 
are  to  stop  here  with  me  in  the  room  whenever  he  comes. 
Do  not  leave  me  alone,  please." 

"Ladyship  is  daimyo,"  the  round  face  answered;  "Tan- 
aka is  faithful  samurai.  Tanaka  gives  life  for  Ladyship !" 
I 

It  was  the  week  before  New  Year.  All  along  the 
Ginza,  which  is  the  main  thoroughfare  of  Tokyo,  along 
the  avenue  of  slender  willow  trees  which  do  their  gallant 
utmost  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  wide  ramshackle 
street,  were  spread  every  evening  the  stock-in-trade  of 
the  yomise,  the  night  shops,  which  cater  their  most  diverse 
wares  for  the  aimless  multitudes  sauntering  up  and  down 
the  sidewalks.  There  are  quack  medicines  and  stylo- 
graph pens,  clean  wooden  altar  cabinets  for  the  kitchen 
gods,  and  images  of  Daikoku  and  Ebisu ;  there  are  cheap 
underclothing  and  old  hats,  food  of  various  kinds,  boots 
and  books  and  toys.  But  most  fascinating  of  all  are  the 
antiquities.  Strewn  over  a  square  six  feet  of  ground  are 
curios,  most  attractive  to  the  unwary,  especially  by  the 
deceptive  light  of  kerosene  lamps.  One  in  a  thousand 
perhaps  may  be  a  piece  of  real  value ;  but  almost  every 
object  has  a  character  and  a  charm  of  its  own.  There  are 
old  gold  screens,  lacquer  tables  and  cabinets,  bronze 
vases,  gilded  Buddhas,  fans,  woodcuts,  porcelains,  kake- 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  303 

mono  (hanging  pictures),  makimono  (illustrated  scrolls), 
inro  (lacquer  medicine  boxes  for  the  pocket),  netsuke 
(ivory  or  bone  buttons,  through  which  the  cords  of  the 
tobacco  pouch  are  slung),  tsuba  (sword  hilts  of  iron  or- 
namented with  delightful  landscapes  of  gold  and  silver 
inlay).  The  Ginza  at  night-time  is  a  paradise  for  the 
minor  collector. 

"Kore  wa  ikuraf  (How  much  is  this?)"  asked  Asako, 
picking  up  a  tiny  silver  box,  which  could  slip  into  a 
waistcoat  pocket.  Inside  were  enshrined  three  gentle 
Buddhas  of  old  creamy  ivory,  perfectly  carved  to  the 
minutest  petal  of  the  full-blown  lotus  upon  which  each 
reposed. 

"Indeed,  it  is  the  end  of  the  year.  We  must  sell  all 
things  cheaply,"  answered  the  merchant.  "It  is  asked 
sixty  yen  for  true  ancient  artistic  object." 

"Such  a  thing  is  not  said,"  replied  Asako,  her  Japanese 
becoming  quite  fluent  with  the  return  of  her  light-heart- 
edness.  "Perhaps  a  joke  is  being  made.  It  would  be 
possible  to  give  ten  yen." 

The  old  curio  vender,  with  the  face  and  spare  figure 
of  Julius  Caesar,  turned  aside  from  such  idle  talk  with  a 
shrug  of  hopelessness.  He  affected  to  be  more  interested 
in  lighting  his  slender  pipe  over  the  chimney  of  the  lamp 
which  hung  suspended  over  his  wares. 

"Ten  yen!  Please  see!"  said  Asako,  showing  a  bank- 
note. The  merchant  shook  his  head  and  puffed.  Asako 
turned  away  into  the  stream  of  passers-by.  She  had  not 
gone  ten  yards,  however,  before  she  felt  a  touch  on  her 
kimono  sleeve.  It  was  Julius  Caesar  with  his  curio. 

"Indeed,  okusan,  there  must  be  reduction.  Thirty  yen; 
take  it,  please." 

He  pressed  the  little  box  into  Asako's  hand. 

"Twenty  yen"  she  bargained,  holding  out  two  notes. 

"It  is  loss!  It  is  loss!"  he  murmured;  but  he  shuf- 
fled back  to  his  stall  again,  very  well  content. 

"I  shall  send  it  to  Geoffrey,"  thought  Asako;  "it  will 
bring  him  good  luck.  Perhaps  he  will  write  to  me  and 
thank  me.  Then  I  can  write  to  him." 


304  KIMONO 

The  New  Year  is  the  greatest  of  Japanese  festivals. 
Japanese  of  the  middle  and  lower  classes  live  all  the  year 
round  in  a  thickening  web  of  debt.  But  during  the  last 
days  of  the  year  these  complications  are  supposed  to  be 
unraveled  and  the  defaulting  debtor  must  sell  some  of  his 
family  goods,  and  start  the  New  York  with  a  clean  slate. 
These  operations  swell  the  stock-in-trade  of  the  yomise. 

On  New  Year's  Day  the  wife  prepares  the  mochi  cakes 
of  ground  rice,  which  are  the  specialities  of  the  season ; 
and  the  husband  sees  to  the  erection  of  his  door  posts  of 
the  two  kadomatsu  (corner  pine  trees),  little  Christmas 
trees  planted  in  a  coil  of  rope.  Then,  attired  in  his  frock- 
coat  and  top  hat,  if  he  be  a  haikarcu  gentleman,  or  in  his 
best  kimono  and  haori,  if  he  be  an  old-fashioned  Japanese, 
he  goes  round  in  a  rickshaw  to  pay  his  complimentary 
calls,  and  to  exchange  o  medeto  (respectfully  lucky!), 
the  New  Year  wish.  He  has  presents  for  his  important 
patrons,  and  cards  for  his  less  influential  acquaintances. 
For,  as  the  Japanese  proverb  says,  "Gifts  preserve  friend- 
ship." At  each  house,  which  he  visits,  he  sips  a  cup  of 
sake,  so  that  his  return  home  is  often  due  to  the  rickshaw 
man's  assistance,  rather  than  to  his  own  powers  of  self- 
direction.  In  fact,  as  Asako's  maid  confided  to  her  mis- 
tress, "Japanese  wife  very  happy  when  New  Year  time 
all  finish.*' 

On  the  night  following  New  Year,  snow  fell.  It  con- 
tinued to  fall  all  the  next  morning  until  Asako's  little 
garden  was  as  white  as  a  bride-cake.  The  irregularities 
of  her  river-side  lawn  were  smoothed  out  under  the  white 
carpet.  The  straw  coverings,  which  a  gardener's  fore- 
sight had  wrapped  round  the  azalea  shrubs  and  the  dwarf 
conifers,  were  enfolded  in  a  thick  white  shroud.  Like 
tufts  of  foam  on  a  wave,  the  snow  was  tossed  on  the 
plumes  of  the  bamboo  clump,  which  hid  the  neighbour's 
dwelling,  and  made  a  bird's  nest  of  Asako's  tiny  domain. 

Beyond  the  brown  sluggish  river,  the  roofs  and  pinna- 
cles of  Asakusa  were  more  fairy-like  than  a  theatre  scene. 
Asako  was  thinking  of  that  first  snow-white  day,  which 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  305 

introduced  Geoffrey  and  her  to  the  Embassy  and  to  Yae 
Smith. 

She  shivered.  Darkness  was  falling.  A  Japanese  house 
is  a  frail  protection  in  winter  time ;  and  a  charcoal  fire  in 
a  wooden  box  is  poor  company.  The  maid  came  in  to 
close  the  shutters  for  the  night.  Where  was  Tanaka? 
He  had  gone  out  to  a  New  Year  party  with  relatives. 
Asako  felt  her  loneliness  all  of  a  sudden ;  and  she  was 
grateful  for  the  moral  comfort  of  cousin  Sadako's  sword. 
She  drew  it  from  its  sheath  and  examined  the  blade, 
and  the  fine  work  on  the  hilt,  with  care  and  alarm,  like  a 
man  fingering  a  serpent. 

No  sooner  was  the  house  silenced  than  the  wind  arose. 
It  smote  the  wooden  framework  with  an  unexpected 
buffet  almost  like  an  earthquake.  The  bamboo  grove 
began  to  rattle  like  bones ;  and  the  snow  slid  and  fell 
from  the  roof  in  dull  thuds. 

There  was  a  sharp  rap  at  the  front  door.  Asako  started 
and  thrust  the  dagger  into  the  breast  of  her  kimono.  She 
had  been  lying  full  length  on  a  long  deckchair.  Now  she 
put  her  feet  to  the  ground.  O  Hana,  the  maid,  came  in 
and  announced  that  Ito  San  had  called.  Asako,  half- 
pleased  and  half-apprehensive,  gave  instructions  for  him 
to  be  shown  in.  She  heard  a  stumbling  on  the  steps  of 
her  house;  then  Ito  lurched  into  the  room.  His  face 
was  very  red,  and  his  voice  thick.  He  had  been  paying 
many  New  Year  calls. 

"Happy  New  Year,  Asa  San,  Happy  New  Year!"  he 
hiccoughed,  grasping  her  hand  and  working  it  up  and 
down  like  a  pump-handle.  "New  Year  in  Japan  very 
lucky  time.  All  Japanese  people  say  New  Year  time 
very  lucky.  This  New  Year  very  lucky  for  Ito.  No  more 
dirty  business,  no  more  Yoshiwara,  no  more  pimp.  I  am 
millionaire,  madame.  I  have  made  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds,  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  gold.  I  now  be- 
come giin  giin  (Member  of  Parliament).  I  become  great 
party  organizer,  great  party  boss,  then  daijin  (Minister 
of  State),  then  taishi  (Ambassador),  then  soridaijin 
(Prime  Minister).  I  shall  be  greatest  man  in  Japan. 


306  KIMONO 

Japan  greatest  country  in  the  world.  Ito  greatest  man 
in  the  world.  And  I  marry  Asa  San  to-morow,  next  day, 
any  day." 

Ito  was  sprawling  in  the  deck  chair,  which  divided  the 
little  sitting-room  into  two  parts  and  cut  off  Asako's  re- 
treat. She  was  tremblng  on  a  bamboo  stool  near  the 
shuttered  window.  She  was  terribly  frightened.  Why 
did  not  Tanaka  come? 

"Speak  to  me,  Asa  San,"  shouted  the  visitor;  "say  to 
me  very  glad,  very,  very  glad,  will  be  very  nice  wife  of 
Ito.  Fujinami  give  you  to  me.  I  have  all  Fujinami's 
secrets  in  my  safe  box.  Ito  greatest  man  in  Japan.  Fu- 
jinami very  fear  of  me.  He  give  me  anything  I  want. 
I  say,  give  me  Asa  San.  Very,  very  love." 

Asako  remaining  without  speech,  the  Japanese  frowned 
at  her. 

"Why  so  silence,  little  girl?  Say,  I  love  you,  I  love  you 
like  all  foreign  girls  say.  I  am  husband  now.  I  never 
go  away  from  this  house  until  you  kiss  me.  You  under- 
stand?" 

Asako  gasped. 

"Mr.  Ito,  it  is  very  late.  Please,  come  some  other  day. 
I  must  go  to  bed  now." 

"Very  good,  very  good.  I  come  to  bed  with  you,"  said 
Ito,  rolling  out  of  his  chair  and  putting  one  heavy  leg 
to  the  ground.  He  was  earing  a  kimono  none  too  well 
adjusted,  and  Asako  could  see  his  hairy  limb  high  up  the 
thigh.  Her  face  must  have  reflected  her  displeasure. 

"What?"  the  Japanese  shouted;  "you  don't  like  me. 
Too  very  proud!  No  dirty  Jap,  no  yellow  man,  what? 
So  you  think,  Madame  Lord  Princess  Harrington.  In  the 
East,  it  may  be,  ugly  foreign  women  despise  Japs.  But 
New  York,  London,  Paris — very  different,  ha  !  ha !  New 
York  girl  say,  Hello,  Jap !  come  here !  London  girl  say, 
Jap  man  very  nice,  very  sweet  manner,  very  soft  eyes. 
When  I  was  in  London  I  have  five  or  six  girls,  English 
girls,  white  girls,  very  beauty  girls,  all  together,  all  very 
love !  London  time  was  great  fine  time !" 

Asako  felt  helpless.    Her  hand  was  on  the  hilt  of  her 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  307 

dagger,  but  she  still  hoped  that  Ito  might  come  to  his 
senses  and  go  away. 

"There !"  he  cried,  "I  know  foreign  custom.  I  know 
everything.  Mistletoe !  Mistletoe !  A  kiss  for  the  mis- 
tletoe, Asa  San !" 

He  staggered  out  of  his  chair  and  came  towards  her, 
like  a  great  black  bird.  She  dodged  him,  and  tried  to  es- 
cape round  the  deck  chair.  But  he  caught  hold  of  her 
kimono.  She  drew  her  sword. 

"Help!    Help!"  she  cried.    "Tanaka!" 

Something  wrenched  at  her  wrist,  and  the  blade  fell. 
At  the  same  moment  the  inner  shoji  flew  open  like  the 
shutter  of  a  camera.  Tanaka  rushed  into  the  room. 

Asako  did  not  turn  to  look  again  until  she  was  outside 
the  room  with  her  maid  and  her  cook  trembling  beside 
her.  Then  she  saw  Tanaka  and  Ito  locked  in  a  wrestler's 
embrace,  puffing  and  grunting  at  each  other,  while  their 
feet  were  fumbling  for  the  sword  which  lay  between 
them.  Suddenly  both  figures  relaxed.  Two  foreheads 
came  together  with  a  wooden  concussion.  Hands  were 
groping  where  the  feet  had  been.  One  set  of  fingers, 
hovering  over  the  sword,  grasped  the  hilt.  It  was  Tan- 
aka ;  but  his  foot  slipped.  He  tottered  and  fell  backward. 
Ito  was  on  the  top  of  him.  Asako  closed  her  eyes.  She 
heard  a  hoarse  roar  like  a  lion.  When  she  dared  to  look 
again,  she  saw  Tanaka  kneeling  over  Ito's  body.  With 
a  wrench  he  pulled  Sadako's  dagger  out  of  the  prostrate 
mass.  It  was  followed  by  a  jet  of  blood,  and  then  by  a 
steady  trickle  from  body,  mouth  and  nostrils,  which 
spread  over  the  matting.  Slowly  and  deliberately,  Tan- 
aka wiped  first  the  knife  and  then  his  hands  on  the  clothes 
of  his  victim.  Then  he  felt  his  mouth  and  throat. 

"Sa!  Shimatta!  (There,  finished!)"  he  said.  He 
turned  towards  the  garden  side,  threw  open  the  shoji 
and  the  amado.  He  ran  across  the  snow-covered  lawn ; 
and  from  beyond  the  unearthly  silence  which  followed 
his  departure,  come  the  distant  sound  of  a  splash  in  the 
river. 

At  last,  Asako  said  helplessly: 


308  KIMONO 

"Is  he  dead?" 

The  cook,  a  man,  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  escape. 

"I  go  and  call  doctor,"  he  said. 

"No,  stay  with  me,"  said  Asako ;  "I  am  afraid.  O  Hana 
can  go  for  the  doctor." 

Asako  and  the  cook  waited  by  the  open  shoji,  staring 
blankly  at  the  body  of  Ito.  Presently  the  cook  said  that 
he  must  go  and  get  something.  He  did  not  return.  Asako 
called  to  him  to  come.  There  was  no  answer.  She  went 
to  look  for  him  in  his  little  three-mat  room  near  the 
kitchen.  It  was  empty.  He  had  packed  his  few  chattels 
in  his  wicker  basket  and  had  decamped. 

Asako  resumed  her  watch  at  the  sitting-room  door,  an 
unwilling  Rizpah.  It  was  as  though  she  feared  that,  if 
she  left  her  post,  somebody  might  come  in  and  steal  Ito. 
But  she  could  have  hardly  approached  the  corpse  even 
under  compulsion.  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  move,  to  try 
to  rise ;  but  it  was  stuck  fast  to  the  matting  by  the  resin- 
ous flow  of  purple  blood.  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  speak : 

"Mistletoe!     Mistletoe!    Kiss  me,  Asa  San!" 

Gusts  of  cold  wind  came  in  from  the  open  windows, 
touching  the  dead  man  curiously,  turning  over  his  kimono 
sleeves.  Outside,  the  bamboo  grove  was  rattling  like 
bones ;  and  the  caked  snow  fell  from  the  roof  in  heavy 
thuds. 

O  Hana  returned  with  a  doctor  and  a  policeman.  The 
doctor  loosened  Ito's  kimono,  and  at  once  shook  his  head. 

The  policeman  wore  a  blue  uniform  and  cape ;  and  a 
sword  dragged  at  his  side.  He  had  produced  a  notebook 
and  a  pencil  from  a  breast  pocket. 

"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked  Asako;  "what  is  your 
age?  your  father's  and  mother's  name?  What  is  your 
address?  Are  you  married?  Where  is  your  husband? 
How  long  have  you  known  this  man?  Were  you  on  fa- 
miliar terms?  Did  you  kill  him  How  did  you  kill  him? 
Why  did  you  kill  him?" 

The  questions  buzzed  round  Asako's  head  like  a  swarm 
of  hornets.  It  had  never  occurred  to  the  unfortunate  girl 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  309 

that  any  suspicion  could  fall  upon  her.  Three  more  police- 
men had  arrived. 

"Every  one  in  this  house  is  arrested,"  announced  the 
first  policeman. 

"Put  out  your  hands,"  he  ordered  Asako.  Rusty  hand- 
cuffs were  slipped  over  her  delicate  wrists.  One  of  the 
policemen  had  produced  a  coil  of  rope,  which  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tie  round  her  waist  and  then  round  the  waist 
of  O  Hana. 

"But  what  have  I  done  ?"  asked  Asako  plaintively. 

The  policeman  took  no  notice.  She  could  hear  two  of 
them  upstairs  in  her  bedroom,  talking  and  laughing, 
knocking  open  her  boxes  and  throwing  things  about. 

Asako  and  her  maid  were  led  out  of  the  house  like  two 
performing  animals.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and  Asako  had 
no  cloak.  The  road  was  already  full  of  loafers.  They 
stared  angrily  at  Asako.  Some  laughed.  Some  pulled 
at  her  kimono  as  she  passed.  She  heard  one  say : 

"It  is  a  geisha;  she  has  murdered  her  sweetheart." 

At  the  police  station,  Asako  had  to  undergo  the  same 
confusing  interrogatory  before  the  chief  inspector. 

"What  is  your  name?  What  is  your  age?  Where  do 
you  live?  What  are  your  father's  and  mother's  names?" 

"Lies  are  no  good,"  said  the  inspector,  a  burly  unsha- 
ven man ;  "confess  that  you  have  killed  this  man." 

"But  I  did  not  kill  him,"  protested  Asako. 

"Who  killed  him  then?  You  must  know  that,"  said  the 
inspector  triumphantly. 

"It  was  Tanaka,"  said  Asako. 

"Who  is  this  Tanaka?"  the  inspector  asked  the  police- 
man. 

"I  do  not  know ;  perhaps  it  is  lies,"  he  answere  1 
sulkily. 

"But  it  is  not  lies,"  expostulated  Asako,  "he  ran  away 
through  the  window.  You  can  see  his  footmarks  in  the 
snow." 

"Did  you  see  the  marks  ?"  the  policeman  was  asked. 

"No ;  perhaps  there  were  no  marks." 

"Did  you  look?" 


310  KIMONO 

r 

"I  did  not  look  actually,  but " 

"You're  a  fool !"  said  the  inspector. 

The  weary  questioning  continued  for  quite  two  hours, 
until  Asako  had  told  her  story  of  the  murder  at  least 
three  times.  The  unfamiliar  language  confused  her,  and 
the  reiterated  refrain: 

"You,  now  confess;  you  killed  the  man!" 

Asako  was  chilled  to  the  bone.  Her  head  was  aching; 
her  eyes  were  aching;  her  legs  were  aching  with  the  or- 
deal of  standing.  She  felt  that  they  must  soon  give  way 
altogether. 

At  last,  the  inspector  closed  his  questionnaire. 

"Saf"  he  ejaculated,  "it  is  past  midnight.  Even  I  must 
sleep  sometimes.  Take  her  away  to  the  court,  and  lock 
her  in  the  'sty.'  To-morrow  the  procurator  will  examine 
at  nine  o'clock.  She  is  pretending  to  be  silly  and  not 
understanding;  so  she  is  probably  guilty." 

Again  the  handcuffs  and  the  degrading  rope  were 
fastened  upon  her.  She  felt  that  she  had  already  been 
condemned. 

"May  I  send  word  to  my  friends?"  she  asked.  Surely 
even  the  Fujinami  would  not  abandon  her  to  her  fate. 

"No.  The  procurator's  examination  has  not  yet  taken 
place.  After  that,  sometimes  permission  can  be  granted. 
That  is  the  law." 

She  was  left  waiting  in  a  stone-flagged  guard-room, 
where  eight  or  nine  policemen  stared  at  her  imper- 
tinently. 

"A  pretty  face,  eh  ?"  they  said,  "it  looks  like  a  geisha ! 
Who  is  taking  her  to  the  court?  It  is  Ishibashi.  Oh,  so! 
He  is  always  the  lucky  chap !" 

A  rough  fellow  thrust  his  hand  up  her  kimono  sleeve, 
and  caught  hold  of  her  bare  arm  near  the  shoulder. 

"Here,  Ishibashi,"  he  cried ;  "you  have  caught  a  fine  bird 
this  time." 

The  policeman  Ishibashi  picked  up  the  loose  end  of  the 
rope,  and  drove  Asako  before  him  into  a  closed  van,  which 
was  soon  rumbling  along  the  deserted  streets. 

She  was  made  to  alight  at  a  tall  stone  building,  where 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  311 

they  passed  down  several  echoing  corridors,  until,  at  the 
end  of  a  little  passage  a  warder  pushed  open  a  door. 
This  was  the  "sty,"  where  prisoners  are  kept  pending 
examination  in  the  procurator's  court.  The  floor  and 
walls  were  of  stone.  It  was  bitterly  cold.  There  was  no 
window,  no  light,  no  fire-box,  and  no  chair.  Alone,  in 
the  petrifying  darkness,  her  teeth  chattering,  her  limbs 
trembling,  poor  Asako  huddled  her  misery  into  a  corner 
of  the  dirty  cell,  to  await  the  further  tender  mercies 
of  the  Japanese  criminal  code.  She  could  hear  the 
scuttering  of  rats.  Had  she  been  ten  times  guilty,  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  have  suffered  more ! 


Daylight  began  to  show  under  the  crack  of  the  door. 
Later  on  a  warder  came  and  beckoned  to  Asako  to  follow 
him.  She  had  not  touched  food  for  twenty  hours,  but 
nothing  was  offered  to  her.  She  was  led  into  a  room 
with  benches  like  a  schoolroom.  At  the  master's  desk 
sat  a  small  spotted  man  with  a  cloak  like  a  scholar's 
gown,  and  a  black  cap  with  ribbons  like  a  Highlander's 
bonnet.  This  was  the  procurator.  At  his  side,  sat  his 
clerk,  similarly  but  less  sprucely  garbed. 

Asako,  utterly  weary,  was  preparing  to  sit  down  on  one 
of  the  benches.  The  warder  pulled  her  up  by  the  nape  of 
her  kimono.  She  had  to  stand  during  her  examination. 

"What  is  your  name?  What  is  your  age?  What  are 
your  father's  and  mother's  names?" 

The  monotonous  questions  were  repeated  all  over  again ; 
and  then, — 

"To  confess  were  better.  When  you  confess,  we  shall 
let  you  go.  If  you  do  not  confess,  we  keep  you  here  for 
days  and  days." 

"I  am  feeling  sick,"  pleaded  Asako;  "may  I  eat  some- 
thing?" 

The  warder  brought  a  cup  of  tea  and  some  salt  biscuit. 

"Now,  confess,"  bullied  the  procurator ;  "if  you  do  not 
confess,  you  will  get  no  more  to  eat." 

Asako  told  her  story  of  the  murder.    She  then  told  it 


312  KIMONO 

again.  Her  Japanese  words  were  slipping  from  the  clutch 
of  her  worn  brain.  She  was  saying  things  she  did  not 
mean.  How  could  she  defend  herself  in  a  language  which 
was  strange  to  her  mind?  How  could  she  make  this 
judge,  who  seemed  so  pitiless  and  so  hostile  to  her,  under- 
stand and  believe  her  broken  sentences  ?  She  was  beating 
with  a  paper  sword  against  an  armed  enemy. 

An  interpreter  was  sent  for;  and  the  questions  were 
all  repeated  in  English.  The  procurator  was  annoyed 
at  Asako's  refusal  to  speak  in  Japanese.  He  thought  that 
it  was  obstinacy,  or  that  she  was  trying  to  fool  him.  He 
seemed  quite  convinced  that  she  was  guilty. 

"I  can't  answer  any  more  questions.  I  really  can't.  I 
am  sick,"  said  Asako,  in  tears. 

"Take  her  back  to  the  'sty/  while  we  have  lunch," 
ordered  the  procurator.  "I  think  this  afternoon  she  will 
confess." 

Asako  was  taken  away,  and  thrust  into  the  horrible 
cell  again.  She  collapsed  on  the  hard  floor  in  a  state 
which  was  partly  a  fainting-fit,  and  partly  the  sleep  of 
exhaustion.  Dreams  and  images  swept  over  her  brain 
like  low-flying  clouds.  It  seemed  to  her  distracted  fancy 
that  only  one  person  could  save  her — Geoffrey,  her  hus- 
band! He  must  be  coming  soon.  She  thought  that  she 
could  hear  his  step  in  the  corridor. 

"Geoffrey !    Geoffrey !"  she  cried. 

It  was  the  warder.  He  stirred  her  with  his  foot.  She 
was  hauled  back  to  the  procurator's  court. 

"So!  Have  you  considered  well?"  said  the  little  spotted 
man.  "Will  you  now  confess  ?" 

"How  can  I  confess  what  I  have  not  done?"  protested 
Asako. 

The  remorseless  inquisition  proceeded.  Asako's  replies 
became  more  and  more  confused.  The  procurator 
frowned  at  her  contradictions.  She  must  assuredly  be 
guilty. 

"How  many  times  do  you  say  that  you  have  met  this 
Ito?"  he  asked. 

Asako  was  at  the  end  of  her  strength.    She  reeled  and 


ALONE  IN  TOKYO  313 

would  have  fallen;  but  the  warder  jerked  her  straight 
again. 

"Confess,  then,"  shouted  the  procurator,  "confess  and 
you  will  be  liberated. 

"I  will  confess,"  Asako  gasped,  "anything  you  like." 

"Confess  that  you  killed  this  Ito !" 

"Yes,  I  confess." 

"Then,  sign  the  confession." 

With  the  triumphant  air  of  a  sportsman  who  has  landed 
his  fish  after  a  long  and  bitter  struggle,  the  procurator 
held  out  a  sheet  of  paper  prepared  beforehand,  on  which 
something  was  written  in  Japanese  characters. 

Asako  tried  to  move  towards  the  desk  that  she  might 
write  her  name ;  but  this  time,  her  legs  gave  way  al- 
together. The  warder  caught  her  by  the  neck  of  her 
kimono,  and  shook  her  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat.  But 
the  body  remained  limp.  He  twisted  her  arm  behind 
her  with  a  savage  wrench.  His  victim  groaned  with  pain, 
but  spoke  no  distinguishable  word.  Then  he  laid  her  out 
on  the  benches,  and  felt  her  chest. 

"The  body  is  very  hot,"  he  said ;  "perhaps  she  is  indeed 
sick." 

"Obstinate,"  grunted  the  procurator ;  "I  am  certain 
that  she  is  guilty.  Are  you  not?"  he  added,  addressing 
the  clerk. 

The  clerk  was  busy  filling  up  some  of  the  blanks  in  the 
back  evidence,  extemporising  where  he  could  not  re- 
member. 

"Assuredly,"  he  said,  "the  opinion  of  the  procurator 
is  always  correct." 

However,  the  doctor  was  summoned.  He  pronounced 
that  the  patient  was  in  a  high  fever,  and  must  at  once 
be  removed  to  the  infirmary. 

So  the  preliminary  examination  of  Asako  Fujinami  came 
to  an  abrupt  end. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

LADY    BRANDAN 

Haru  no  hi  no  The  long  thoughts 

Nagaki  ornoi  wa  Of  the  spring  days 

Wasureji  wo,  Will  never  be  forgotten 

Hito  no  kokoro  ni  Even    when    autumn    comes 

Aki  ya  tatsuramu.  To  the  hearts  of  the  people, 

THE  low-flying  clouds  of  hallucination  had  fallen  so  close 
to  Asako's  brain,  that  her  thoughts  seemed  to  be  caught 
up  into  the  dizzy  whirlwind  and  to  be  skimming  around 
and  round  the  world  at  the  speed  of  an  express  aero- 
plane. Like  a  clock  whose  regulation  is  out  of  order, 
the  hour-hand  of  her  life  seemed  to  be  racing  the  minute- 
hand,  and  the  minute-hand  to  be  covering  the  face  of  the 
dial  in  sixty  seconds  or  less,  returning  incessantly  to  the 
same  well-known  figures,  pausing  awhile,  then  jerking 
away  again  at  an  insane  rate.  From  time  to  time  the  haze 
over  the  mind  began  to  clear ;  and  Asako  seemed  to  look 
down  upon  the  scene  around  her  from  a  great  height. 
There  was  a  long  room,  so  long  that  she  could  not  see 
the  end  of  it,  and  rows  of  narrow  beds,  and  nurses,  dressed 
in  white  with  high  caps  like  bishops'  mitres,  who  appeared 
and  disappeared.  Sometimes  they  would  speak  to  her 
and  she  would  answer.  But  she  did  not  know  what  they 
said,  nor  what  she  said  to  them. 

A  gentle  Japanese  lady  with  a  very  long,  pock-marked 
face,  sat  on  her  bed  and  talked  to  her  in  English.  Asako 
noticed  that  the  nurses  and  doctors  were  most  deferential 
to  this  lady ;  and  that,  after  her  departure,  she  was  treated 
much  more  kindly  than  before.  A  name  kept  peeping 
out  of  her  memory,  like  a  shy  lizard  out  of  its  hole ;  but 
the  moment  her  brain  tried  to  grab  at  it,  it  slipped  back 
again  into  oblivion. 

Two  English  ladies  called  together,  one  older  and  one 
younger.  They  talked  about  Geoffrey.  Geoffrey  was 

314 


LADY  BRANDAN  315 

one  of  the  roman  figures  on  the  clock  dial  of  her  mind. 
They  said  good  things  about  Geoffrey ;  but  she  could  not 
remember  what  they  were. 

One  day,  the  Japanese  lady  with  the  marked  face  and 
one  of  the  nurses  helped  her  to  get  out  of  bed.  Her  legs 
were  trembling,  and  her  feet  were  sorely  plagued  by 
pins  and  needles ;  but  she  held  together  somehow.  To- 
gether they  dressed  her.  The  lady  wrapped  a  big  fur 
cloak  round  her ;  and  with  a  supporter  on  either  side 
she  was  led  into  the  open  air,  where  a  beautiful  motor-car 
was  waiting.  There  was  a  crowd  gathered  round  it.  But 
the  police  kept  them  back.  As  Asako  stepped  in,  she 
heard  the  click  of  cameras. 

"Asa  Chan,"  said  the  lady,  "don't  you  remember  me? 
I  am  Countess  Saito." 

Of  course,  Asako  remembered  now — a  spring  morn- 
ing with  Geoffrey  and  the  little  dwarf  trees. 

The  notoriety  of  the  Ito  murder  case  did  Asako  a  good 
turn.  Her  friends  in  Japan  had  forgotten  her.  They  had 
imagined  that  she  had  returned  to  England  with  Geoffrey. 
Reggie  Forsyth,  who  alone  knew  the  details  of  her  posi- 
tion, had  thrown  up  his  secretaryship  the  day  that  war 
was  declared,  and  had  gone  home  to  join  the  army. 

The  morning  papers  of  January  3rd,  with  their  high- 
flown  account  of  the  myterious  house  by  the  river-side 
and  the  Japanese  lady  who  could  talk  no  Japanese, 
brought  an  unexpected  shock  to  acquaintances  of  the  Bar- 
ringtons,  and  especially  to  Lady  Cynthia  Cairns  and  to 
Countess  Saito.  These  ladies  both  made  inquiries,  and 
learned  that  Asako  was  lying  dangerously  ill  in  the  prison 
infirmary.  A  few  days  later,  when  Tanaka  was  arrested 
and  had  made  a  full  confession  of  the  crime,  Count  Saito, 
who  knew  how  suspects  fare  at  the  hands  of  a  zealous 
procurator,  called  in  person  on  the  Minister  of  Justice, 
and  secured  Asako's  speedy  liberation. 

"This  girl  is  a  valuable  asset  to  our  country,"  he  had 
explained  to  the  Minister.  "She  is  married  to  an  English- 
man, who  will  one  day  be  a  peer  in  England.  This  was 
a  marriage  of  political  importance.  It  was  a  proof  of 


316  KIMONO 

the  equal  civilisation  of  our  Japan  with  the  great  countries 
of  Europe.  It  is  most  important  that  this  Asako  should 
be  sent  back  to  England  as  soon  as  possible,  and  that  she 
should  speak  good  things  about  Japan." 

So  Asako  was  released  from  the  procurator's  clutches ; 
and  she  was  given  a  charming  little  bedroom  of  her  own 
in  the  European  wing  of  the  Saito  mansion.  The  house 
stood  on  a  high  hill ;  and  Asako,  seated  at  the  window, 
could  watch  the  multiplex  activity  of  the  streets  below, 
the  jolting  tramcars,  the  wagons,  the  barrows  and  the 
rickshaws.  To  the  left  was  a  labyrinth  of  little  houses 
of  clean  white  wood,  bright  and  new,  like  toys,  with  toy 
evergreens  and  pine-trees  bursting  out  of  their  narrow 
gardens.  This  was  a  geisha  quarter,  whence  the  sound  of 
samisen  music  and  quavering  songs  resounded  all  day 
long.  To  the  right  was  a  big  grey-boarded  primary 
school,  which,  with  the  regular  movement  of  tides,  sucked 
in  and  belched  out  its  flood  of  blue-cloaked  boys  and 
magenta-skirted  maidens. 

Count  and  Countess  Saito,  despite  their  immense  wealth 
and  their  political  importance,  were  simple,  unostentatious 
people,  who  seemed  to  devote  most  of  their  thoughts  to 
their  children,  their  garden,  their  dwarf  trees,  and  their 
breed  of  cocker  spaniels.  They  took  their  social  duties 
lightly,  though  their  home  was  a  Mecca  for  needy  rela- 
tives on  the  search  for  jobs.  They  gave  generously ;  they 
entertained  hospitably.  Good-humour  ruled  the  house- 
hold ;  for  husband  and  wife  were  old  partners  and  devoted 
friends. 

Count  Saito  brought  his  nephew  and  secretary,  a  most 
agreeable  young  man,  to  see  'Asako.  The  Count  said, — 

"Asa  Chan,  I  want  you  to  tell  Mr.  Sakabe  all  about  the 
Fujinami  house  and  the  way  of  life  there." 

So  Asako  told  her  story  to  this  interested  listener. 
Fortunately,  perhaps,  she  could  not  read  the  Japanese 
newspapers ;  for  most  of  her  adventures  reappeared  in 
the  daily  issues  almost  word  for  word.  From  behind 
the  scenes,  Count  Saito  was  directing  the  course  of  the 
famous  trial  which  had  come  to  be  known  as  the  Fuiinami 


LADY  BRANDAN  317 

Affair.    For  the  Count  had  certain  political  scores  of  his 
own  to  pay  off ;  and  Asako  proved  to  be  a  godsend. 

Tanaka  was  tried  for  murder ;  but  it  was  established 
that  he  had  killed  Ito  in  defending  his  mistress's  honour ; 
and  the  court  let  him  off  with  a  year's  hard  labour.  But 
the  great  Fujinami  bribery  case  which  developed  out  of 
the  murder  trial,  ruined  a  Cabinet  Minister,  a  local  gov- 
ernor, and  a  host  of  minor  officials.  It  reacted  on  the 
Yoshiwara  regulations.  The  notoriety  of  the  case  has 
gone  far  towards  putting  an  end  to  public  processions  of 
oiran,  and  to  the  display  of  prostitutes  in  the  windows  of 
their  houses.  Indeed,  it  is  probably  only  a  question  of 
time  for  the  great  pleasure  quarters  to  be  closed  down, 
and  for  vice  to  be  driven  into  secrecy.  Mr.  Fujinami 
Gentaro  was  sentenced  to  three  years'  imprisonment  for 
causing  bribes  to  be  distributed. 

Meanwhile  Countess  Saito  had  been  in  correspondence 
with  Lady  Everington  in  England.  On  one  bright  March 
morning,  she  came  into  Asako's  room  with  a  small  flower- 
pot in  her  hands. 

"See,  Asa  Chan,"  she  said  in  her  strange  hoarse  voice, 
"the  first  flower  of  the  New  Year,  the  plum-blossom. 
It  is  the  flower  of  hope  and  patience.  It  blooms  when 
the  snow  is  still  on  the  ground,  and  before  it  has  any 
green  leaves  to  protect  it." 

"It  smells  sweet,"  said  Asako. 

Her  hostess  quoted  the   famous  poem  of  the   exiled 
Japanese  statesman,  Sukawara  no  Michizane, — 
"When  the  East  wind  blows, 
Send  your  perfume  to  me, 
Flower  of  the  plum ; 
Even  if  your  master  is  absent, 
Do  not  forget  the  spring." 

"Asako  dear,"  Countess  Saito  continued,  "would  you 
like  to  go  to  England?" 

Asako's  heart  leaped. 

"Oh  yes !"  she  answered  gladly. 

Her  hostess  sighed  reproachfully.  She  had  tried  to 
make  life  so  agreeable  for  her  little  visitor;  yet  from  the 


318  KIMONO 

tone  of  her  voice  it  was  clear  that  Japan  would  never  be 
home  for  her. 

"Marchioness  Samejima  and  I,"  continued  the  Japanese 
lady,  "have  been  arranging  for  a  party  of  about  twenty- 
five  Red  Cross  nurses  to  visit  England  and  France.  They 
are  all  very  good,  clever  girls  from  noble  families.  We 
wish  to  show  sympathy  of  Japan  for  the  poor  soldiers  who 
are  suffering  so  much;  and  we  wish  to  teach  our  girls 
true  facts  about  war  and  how  to  manage  a  hospital  in 
war-time.  We  thought  you  might  like  to  go  as  guide 
and  interpreter." 

It  needed  no  words  to  show  how  joyfully  i/Vsako 
accepted  this  proposal.  Besides,  she  had  heard  from 
Geoffrey.  A  letter  had  arrived  thanking  her  for  her  Christ- 
mas gift. 

"Little  darling  Asako,"  her  husband  had  written,  "It 
was  so  sweet  of  you  and  so  like  you  to  think  of  me  at 
Christmas  time.  I  hope  that  you  are  very  happy  and 
having  a  jolly  good  time.  It  is  very  rotten  in  England 
just  now  with  the  war  going  on.  It  had  broken  out 
before  I  reached  home ;  and  I  joined  up  at  once  with  my 
old  regiment.  We  have  had  a  very  lively  time.  About 
half  of  my  brother  officers  have  been  killed ;  and  I  am  a 
colonel  now.  Also,  incidentally,  I  have  become  Lord 
Brandan.  My  father  died  at  the  end  of  last  year.  Poor 
old  father!  This  war  is  a  ghastly  business;  but  we  have 
got  them  beat  now.  I  shall  be  sorry  in  a  way  when  it  is 
over;  for  it  gives  me  plenty  to  do  and  to  think  about. 
Reggie  Forsyth  is  with  his  regiment  in  Egypt.  Lady  Ever- 
ington  is  writing  to  you.  I  am  in  the  north  of  France, 
and  doing  quite  a  lot  of  parlcy-voo.  Is  there  any  chance 
of  your  coming  to  England?  God  bless  you,  Asako  dar- 
ling. Write  to  me  soon. 

Your  loving  Geoffrey." 

With  this  letter  folded  near  her  heart,  Asako  was 
hardly  in  a  mood  to  admire  plum-blossoms.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  she  could  summon  sufficient  attention  to 


LADY  BRANDAN  319 

give  the  little  Saito  children  their  daily  lessons  in  English 
and  French. 

Long  rides  in  the  motor-car  through  the  reviving 
country-side  to  the  splendid  gorge  of  Miyanoshita  or  to 
the  beaches  of  Oiso,  where  Count  Saito  had  his  summer 
villa,  long  days  ot  play  with  the  children  in  the  hanging 
garden,  the  fascinating  companionship  of  the  dwarf  trees 
and  the  black  spaniels,  and  the  welcome  absence  of  espion- 
age and  innuendo,  had  soon  restored  Asako  to  health 
again. 

"Little  Asa  Chan,"  Count  Saito  said  one  day,  beckoning 
his  guest  to  sit  down  beside  him  in  the  sunlight  on  the 
terrace,  "you  will  be  happy  to  go  back  to  England?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  the  girl. 

"It  is  a  fine  country,  a  noble  country ;  and  you  will  be 
happy  to  see  your  husband  again?" 

Asako  blushed  and  held  down  her  head. 

"I  don't  think  he  is  still  my  husband,"  she  said,  "but 
oh !  I  do  want  to  see  him  so." 

"I  think  he  wants  to  see  you,"  said  the  Count;  "My 
wife  has  received  a  letter  from  Lady  Everington  which 
says  that  he  would  like  you  very  much  to  come  back  to 
him." 

The  Count  waited  for  this  joyful  news  to  produce  its 
effect,  and  then  he  added, — 

"Asa  Chan,  you  are  going  to  be  a  great  English  lady; 
but  you  will  always  remain  a  Japanese.  In  England, 
you  will  be  a  kind  of  ambassador  for  Japan.  So  you  must 
never  forget  your  father's  country,  and  you  must  never 
say  bad  things  about  Japan,  even  if  you  have  suffered 
here.  Then  the  English  people  will  like  you ;  and  for 
that  reason,  they  will  like  Japan  too;  and  the  two 
counties  will  stand  side  by  side,  as  they  ought  to,  like 
good  friends.  The  English  are  a  very  great  people,  the 
greatest  of  all ;  but  they  know  very  little  about  us  in  the 
East.  They  think  that  because  we  are  yellow  people, 
therefore  we  are  inferior  to  them.  Perhaps,  when  they 
see  a  Japanese  lady  as  one  of  their  peers'  wives  and  a 
leader  in  society,  they  will  understand  that  the  Japanese 


320  KIMONO 

also  are  not  so  inferior;  for  the  English  people  have  a 
great  respect  for  peers.  Japan  is  proud  to  be  England's 
younger  brother;  but  the  elder  brother  must  not  take  all 
the  inheritance.  He  must  be  content  to  share.  For  per- 
haps he  will  not  always  be  the  strong  one.  This  war  will 
make  England  weak  and  it  will  make  Japan  strong.  It 
will  make  a  great  change  in  the  world,  and  in  Asia  most 
of  all.  Already  the  people  of  Asia  are  saying,  Why 
should  these  white  men  rule  over  us?  They  cannot  rule 
themselves;  they  fight  among  themselves  like  drunkards; 
their  time  is  over  and  past.  Then,  when  the  white  rulers 
are  pushed  out  of  Asia,  Japan  will  become  very  strong 
indeed.  It  will  be  said  then  that  England,  the  elder 
brother,  is  become  inkyo  (retired  from  active  life),  and 
that  Japan,  the  younger  brother,  is  manager  of  the  family. 
I  think  you  will  live  to  see  these  things,  Asa  Chan.  Cer- 
tainly your  children  will  see  them." 

"I  could  never  like  Japan,"  Asako  said  honestly. 

The  old  diplomat  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Very  well,  Asa  Chan.  Just  enjoy  life,  and  be  happy. 
That  will  be  the  best  propaganda." 


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